UC-NRLF 035 Morris B. Parker INTRDUCTION THE ENGLISH READER: OR, " jp ) POETRY; TO 1 Ml' ROVE READING : M'lTH RULES AMD 01 YS /V77.\Y; CliU.Di .1'ITL PROP* ''dition, im/iiwfil by the author . SH GRAMMAR, ADAPTED TO THS DIFFERENT CLASSES OF LEARNERS," Scc NEW- YORK : SOLD BV COLLINS AND PilRK NO. 189, PEARL-STREET. 1809. cure H the >\eft he IIBSi ^m m jHIP RULE: 7 ) AND OBSERVATIONS *TH m rn $ ~-. ~HE compiler of this work having, in the prc- JL face to his " Englifh Reader/' explained at large the principles of elocution, nothing on this head feems to be ncceflary in the nreient publica- tion, but to give a few plain and iimpie rules, adapted to the younger clafies of learners ; and to make fome obiervati- ulated to rectify the errors which they are mo ft apt to commit. Thefe rules may be comprehended under the following is. Thv mprifed in few words, and a little ieparated from the obfervations, that thofe teachers who wifh their pupils to commit them to memory, may more readily diftitiguifh them from 'arts which require only an attentive peruial. 1^ ip.ds fliould be pronounced : e fs , a n d e n c r g y ; particularly the vowels, on the proper utterance of which, the force and beauty of pronunciation greatly depend. The fimple founds, efpecially thofe fignified by the letters /, r, j, /, and j/j 9 are often very imper- fedtly pronounced by youn;* perfons. B and p are to be confounded : fo are d and /, s and 2, j^ a 2 vi ES, &C. and v. The letters v and w are often founded the one for the other: thus, wine is pronounced vine; and vinegar, winegar, The diphthong ow is, in iome words, vulgarly founded like er : as folier, meller, winder ; inftead of follow, mellow, window. When feveral confonants, proper to be founded, occur in the beginning or at the end of words', it is a very common error to omit one of them in pro- nunciation : as in the words afps, calks, guefts, breadth, fiftji, twelfth, ftrength, hearths. Not founding the letter /;>, when it is proper to found this letter, is a great fault in pronunciation, and very difficult wholly to correct. When children have acquired any improper ha- bits with refpect to iimple founds, the belt mode of correction is, to make them frequently repeat words and fentences, in which thofe founds occur. When the iiinple founds are thoroughly understood and acquired, the various combinations of them into fyllables and words will be eafily effected. II. In order to give fpirit and propriety to pro- nunciation, due attention muft be paid to accent, emphafis, and cadence. When we diftinguifh a fyllable by a great / ftreis of the voice, it is called accent. When we thus diftinguifli any word in a fentence, it is called emphafis. It is difficult to give precife rules for placing the accent : but the beft general direction, is to confult the moft approved pronouncing diction- aries, and to imitate the praftice of the moft cor- rect fpeakers/ RULES, &c. vii There are, in every fentence, fome word or words, on which the fenfe of the reft depends ; and thefe muft always be diftinguifhed by a fuller and ftronger found of voice, whether they are found in the beginning, the middle, or at the end of the fentence. It is highly improper to lay an emphafis on words of little importance. Words put in oppofition to each other are always emphati- cal : as, " Here I am jni/erable ; but tbyy^ I (hall be happy.'* " Children,'' fays Beattie/ " are not often taught to read with proper emphafis. When books are put before them which they do not un- der ftand, it is irnpofiible they fhould apply it pro- perly. Let them, therefore, read nothing but what is level to their capacity. Let them read de- liberately, and with attention to every word. Let them be fet right, not only when they mifapply the cniphafis ; but alfo cautioned againft the oppofite extremes of too forcible and too feeble an applica- tion of it : for, by the former of thefe faults, Lome affected in their utterance ; and by the latter, infipid." That children may be enabled to a] hails, with judgment, they fliould fubject, and afrertain the mean- Icult word and fentence, previous ocmg called to read to the teacher. As emphafis confifts in raifing the voice, cadence iignifies the falling of it. Towards the clofe of a fentence, the cadence takes place, unlefs the con- cluding words be emphatical. It fhould always be eafy and gradual, not abrupt ; and fliould never be expreiTed in a feeble and languid manner. Even tfre viii R u LES, &c. falling of the voice may be managed with fpirit and variety. III. As the art of reading greatly depends oa the proper management of the breath, it fhouid be ufed with economy. The voice ought to be re- lieved at every ftop ; {lightly at a comma, more leifurely at a femicolon, or a colon, and completely at a period. A due attention to this rule, will prevent a broken, faint, and languid voice, which is the ufual fault of ignorant and vulgar readers. It will enable the reader to preferve the command of his voice ; to pronounce the longed fentence with as much eafe as the fhorteft ; and to acquire that freedom and energy, with which a perfon of judg- ment naturally expreiTes his perceptions, emotions, and paffions, in common difcourfe. The comma marks the fhorteft paufe, the fe- micolon, a paufe double that of the comma ; the colon, double that of the femicolon ; and the pe- riod, double that of the colon. A cl;.fh folk a (lop, fhows that the paufe is to be g the ftop were alone ; and when ufeH ' itl , re- quires a paufe of fuch length as the lenie alone can determine. A paragraph requires a paufe double that which is proper at a period. The points .of interrogation and exclamation, are uncertain as to their time. The paufe which they demand is equal to a femicolon, a colony or a period, RULES, &C. IX as the fenfe may require. They fhould be at- tended with an elevation of the voice. The paren- thefis, unlefs accompanied with a flop, requires but a fmall paufe. It generally marks a moderate de- preilion of the voice. IV. Let the tone of the voice in reading be the fame as it would be in fpeaking on the fame fubjecl. To render this rule proper and effectual, children fhould be taught to fpeak flowly, diftinclly, and with due attention to the fentiments they exprefs. The mode of fpeaking is then only to be imitated by the reader, when it is juft and natural. V. Endeavour to vary and modulate the voice jcording to the nature of the fubjecl:, whether it in a folemn, a ferious, a familiar, a gay, a hu- urous, or an ironical drain. would be highly improper to read an intereft- nrrative, with an air of negligence ; to exprefs emotions of the heart, with cold indiffer- nd to pronounce a paffage of Scripture, on aiime and important fubject, with the familiar tone of common converfation. On the other hand, it would be abfurd to read a letter on trivial fubjects, in a mournful ft rain ; or a production of gaiety and humour, with grave formality. VI. In reading verfe, the fame general directions ;ft be obferved, as have been given for reading pro' " Na RULES, &C. Narrative, didaftic, defcriptive, and pathetic pieces, have the fame peculiar tone and manner, in poetry as in profe. A finging note, and mak- ing the lines jingle by laying too great ftrefs on the rhyming words, fhould be particularly avoided. A very fmali paufe ought to be made at the end of a line, unlefs the fenfe, or fome of the ufual marks of paufe, require a conliderable one. The great rule for reading verfe, as well as profe, is to read {lowly, diftinftly, and in a natural tone of voice. We fhali now caution young readers agair ' fome faults which many are apt to commit, doing this, it will unavoidably happen, that a of the preceding obfervations will, in fome peels, be repeated ; but this confirmation c rules will, it is prefumed, be no difadvant the learners. A difplay of the various ei reading, incident to children, may make a impreffion, than directions which are pofi f point only to the propriety of pronuncia> 1 i. Avoid too loud, or too low a voice. An overftrained voice is very inconvenient to the reader, as well as difgufting to the hearer. It exhaufts the reader's fpirits ; and prevents the proper management and modulation of his voice, according to the fenfe of his fubject ; and it natu- rally leads into a tone. Too low a voice is not RULES, &C. X[ fo inconvenient to the fpeaker, as the other ex- treme ; but it is very difagreeable to the hearer. It is always offenfive to an audience, to obferve any thing in the reader or fpeaker, that marks in- dolence or inattention. When the voice is natu- rally too loud, or too low, young perfons iliould correct it in their ordinary converfation : by this means they will learn to avoid both the extremes, in reading. They fhould begin the fentence with an even moderate voice, which will enable them to rife or fall as the fubject requires. 2. Avoid a thick, confufed, cluttering voice. It is very difagreeable to hear a perfon mumble, clip, or fwallow his words ; leaving out feme fyi- lables in the long v, :.d fcarcely ever pro- nouncing fome of tli ones ; but hurrying on without any care to give his words tbeir full found, or his hearers the fu'l fenfe of them. This fault is not eafily cured. The b> ft means of mend- ing it, is, to endeavour, both in converfation and reading, to pronounce every word in a deliberate, clear, and dilUndt manner. 3. Be careful to read neither too quick nor too flow. A precipitant reader leaves no room for pnufes; fatigues himfelf; and lowers the dignity of his fubjecl:. His hearers loie much of what is deli- vered, and muft always be diiiatisfied with a reader who hurries and tires them. Children are very xii RULES, &c. apt to read too faft, and to take pleafure in it, thinking that they who pronounce the words with the greateft rapidity, are the beft fcholars. The heavy, dronifh, ileepy reader, and who often makes paufes where there fhould be none, is alfo very difagreeable. If he hems and yawns between the periods, he is ftill more fo. 4. Study to avoid an irregular mode of pronun- ciation. It is a great fault in reading, to raife and fall the voice by fits and ftarts ; to elevate and deprefs it unfeafonably, without regard to fenfe or ftops , or always to begin a fentence with a high voice, and conclude it with a low one, or, on the contrary, to begin with a low voice, and conclude with a high one. To avoid thefe errors, the fentence ihould not be begun in too high or too low a key ; regard ihould be had to the nature of the points, and the length of the periods : and the reader's mind ihould be attentive to the fubjecl, fenfe, and ipirit, of his author. 5, With the utmoft care avoid a flat, dull, uni- form voice, without emphafis or cadence, or a pro- per regard to the fenfe of what is reading. This is a practice to which children who do not love learning, and who are tired with their lefTons, are very prone. When this mode of reading be- comes habitual, it is painful to the hearer, and very difficult to be remedied. The beft means of cure RULES, &c. xiii are thofe prefcribed for the preceding error: for if the mind je attentive to the fentiments delivered, the voice will be adapted to their nature and im- portance. 6. Reading with an improper tone, is a great and common fault of learners, and muft be careful- ly avoided. No habit is more eafy to be contracted than this, - or harder to be overcome. This unnatural tone in reading, is always dHgufting to perfons of fenfe an. I : acy. Some have a fqueaking tone. Perfons whofe voices are fhrill and weak, or overtrained, are apt to fall into this tone. Some have a fin or canting note : others aflumc a high, fwelling tone. Thefe lay too much ftrefs on every fentence, and violate every rule of decent pronunciation. Some affect an awful and ftriking tone, attended with ffefemn grimace; as if they wiftied to move the reader with every word, whether the weight of the fubjedt fupports them, or not. ome have a fct, uniform tone of voice, which has already n noticed. Others have a ftrange, whimficaJ, whining tone, peculiar to thcrrtfelves, and not cafy to bj defcribcd. They are continually laying the emphafis on words which do not require or de- fer ve it. To avoid all kinds of unnatural arid dilugrcc, tones, we fhould read with, the fame cafe and free- dom that would mark our private converfation, on the fame fubjeft. We do not hear perfons con- b xiv RULES, &C. verfe in a tone : if we did, we fhould laugh at them. " Do not," fays Dr. Watts, " aft'ecl to change that natural and eafy found with which you fpeak, for a ftrange, new, awkward tone, as fome do, when they begin to read. We fhould almoft be perfuaded that the fpeaker and the reader were two different perfons, if our eyes did not tell us the contrary." We fhalt clofe thefe rules and obfervations, by a remark of confiderable importance to young per- fons who are defirous of learning to read well. Few rules on the fubject are intelligible to children, unlefs illuftrated by the voice of a competent in- ilructer. They fhould, therefore, pay great atten- tion to the manner in which their teacher, and other perfons of approved Ikil^ perform the buii- nefs of reading. They fhould obferve their mode of pronouncing the words, placing the emphafis, making the paufes, managing the voice, andSfedapt- ing it to the various fubjects they read ; and, in all thefe refpefts, endeavour to imitate them as nearly as poffible. CONTENTS. I\IRT i. .S I.V PROSK. CHAPTER I. Page SELECT SENTENCES AXD PARAGRAPHS, - - 1 -^CHAPTER II. ^ ft VARRAflVE PI: r. i. The pious fons. ----- 12 2. Filial fcnfibility, - 13 3. Cruelty to infects condemned, - 15 4. Selfiih forrow reproved, - - 16 5 . We are often deceived by appearances, 1 7 6. The two bees, ------18 7. Ingenuity and Induftry rewarded, - 19 8. The fecret of being always fatisfied, 22 9. Beneficence is its own reward, - 23 10. The compaflionate Judge, 24 11 The generous negro, - - - - 2^ 12 The Indian Chief, - - 28 13. Noble behaviour of Scipio, >;V1 CONTENTS. Page SECT. 14. Virtue in humble life, - 33 15. The female choice, 36 r6. The noble baiket-maker, 39 CHAPTER III. DlDACflC PIECES. SECT. i. Tendernefs to mothers, - - - 42 ?,. Refpect and affection due from pupils to their tutors, ----- 43 3. On filial piety, ------ 44 4. Love between brothers and fitters, 45 $. Benevolence, ------ 46 6. Ingratitude to our Supreme Bene- factor, is highly culpable, 47 7. Speculation and practice, - - 48 CHAPTER IV. , DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. SECT. i. The Eagle, 50 2. The humming-bird, - - - - S3 3. Thehorfe, ------- 56 4. The Ouran-Outang, - - - - 60 5. The four feafons, ----- 64 6. Divine Providence, - - - - 66 7. Health, 6% 8. Charity, #9 9. Gratitude, -70 10. Mortality, ~ 7 1 11. Immortality, ..---- 72 12. Heaven, ------- 73 CONTENTS. XV11 CHAPTER V. DIALOGUES. Page SECT. i. Canute and his courtiers, Flattery reproved, ------ 76 2. The two robbers. We often con- demn in others what we praclife ourfelves, ------ 79 3. A family converfation On the flavery of the negroes, - 82 .{. The father redeemed from flavery by his fon, 88 -. The tutor and his pupils. Eyes and no eyes ; or, the art of feeing, 91 CHAPTER VI. PROMISCUOUS PJEi SECT. i. We deftroy pleafure by purfuing it too eagerly, - - - - - - 104 2. On fifterly unity and love, - 105 3. The Supreme Ruler of the world, 106 4. Abraham and Lot ; a fine example of wifdom and condefcenfion, * 107 ^. A perfecuting fpirit reproved, - 109 6. The folly of pride, - - -* - 110 7. The whiitle, - - - - - -113 8. A generous mind does not repine at the advantages others enjoy, - 115 9. Infolent deportment towards inferiors reproved, - -117 b 2 XVlll CONTENTS. Page SECT. 10. Arachne and Melifla, - - -119 IT. Socrates and Leander. Difre- fpecl to parents, is in no cafe al- lowable, - - - - - - -121 12. Socrates and Demetrius. Brethren fhould dwell together in har- mony, --_ ---123 13. On good breeding, - - - - 126 14. The ungrateful gueft, - - - 129 15. The hofpitable negro woman, - 131 1 6. Catharina, emprefs of Ruffia, - 135 17. The fame fubj eel continued, - - 137 1 8. Virtue and happinefs equally attain- able by the rich and the poor, - 140 19. The character of Chrift, - - 141 PART II. PIECES IN POETRY. CHAPTER I. Page T SENTENCES AND PARAGRAPHS, - 144 CHAPTER II. NARRATIVE PIECES. SECT. I. The Looking-glafs \ or, ill humour corrected, - - - - - - CONTENTS. XIX Page SECT. 2. The Butterfly and the Snail; or ele- vation renders little minds proud and infolent, - - - - -151 3. The Brother and Sifter ; or, mental excellence fuperior to perfonal beauty, - - - - - - -153 4. The Lamb and the Pig; or, nature and education, - - - - - 154 5. The Bee and the Ant ; or, the ad- vantages of application and dili- gence in early years, - - - 155 6. The Doves, - - - - - -157 The Goldfinches, - - - - - 159 8. The pet Lamb, - - - 161 9. The Farmer, the Spaniel, and the Cat, ---.-.- ^4 10. The Wheat and the Weeds,- - - 166 11. Economy the fource of charity, - 167 CHAPTER III. DIDACTIC PIECES. T. i. To fome children liftening to a lark, 170 2. The advantages of early religion, 171 3. Peace and love recommended, - 172 To a young woman, with a watch, 173 5. Verfes accompanying a nofegay, - 173 6. Duties of the morning, - 175 7. The Mind to be cultivated, - - 176 8. Dependence on Providence, - - 177 XX CONTENTS. Page CHAPTER IV. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. SECT. i. The pleafures of retirement, - 180 2. The Sluggard, - - - 181 3. Creation and Providence, - - - 182 4. A morning in Spring, - - - 183 5. Heavenly wifdom, - - - - 184 6. The man of Rofs, - - 185 7. Refignation, ----- 186 8. Charafter of Chrift, - - - - 187 CHAPTER V. PROMISCUOUS PIECES. SECT. i. Gratitude to the Supreme Being, 189 2. Acknowledgment of Divine favours, 190 3. The excellence of the Bible, - - 191 4. On Induftry, ------ 192 5. On early rifing, ----- 193 6. The drowning fly, - 194 7. To a Redbreaft, ----- 1^4 8. To a child of five years old, - - 195 9. The Rofe, ------- 196 jo. The Ant, ------- jp6 11. A morning hymn, ----- 197 12. An evening hymn, ----- 198 13. The Winter's Day, - - - - 199 14. Compailion and forgivenefs, - - 20D 15. The ignorance of man, - - - - 201 1 6. The happy choice, ----- 202 CONTENTS. XXI Page SECT. 17. The fall of the leaf, - - - - 203 1 8. Truft in the goodnefs of God, - 204 19. The Chriftian race, - 205 20. The dying Chriftian to his foul, 206 21. Epitaph on a poor and virtuous man, ------- 206 22. Love to enemies, - 207 2. The dangers and fnares of life, 208 24. The Divine Being knows and fees every thing, ----- 209 25. All nature attefts the great Creator, 211 26. Praife due to God for his wonder- ful works, - - - - -213 27. The happy end, ----- 214 28. A kind and gentle temper of great importance to the happinefs of life, 215 29. Simplicity, - - - - - -216 30. Care and Generofity, - - - 217 31. The Slave, - - - 219 32. The Swallows, - - * 221 CAUTION, BY THE AMERICAN PUBLISHERS. AS the correfpcndents of LINDLEY MURRAY, and publifhers of his various works, COLLINS & PERKINS think it neceffary to ap- prife the public, that feveral editions of the Grammar have been - printed in different parts of the United States, with alterations of the original text, for which copy rights have been claimed by the parties concerned, to fecure to themfclves an emolument anting from an exclufive fale. One edition of the Abridged Grammar, has been publifhed by a teacher, at Bofton, fattened, becaufe it was conceived by him to have been before too long. Another has been publifhed by a teacher at Philadelphia, fomcwhat enlarged, be- caufe be confidered it before too foort. A third has been publifhed at Worcefter, by a teacher, who, thinking it to be neither too Ihort nor too long, has introduced a " New Syftem of Punctuation" only. A fourth has been publifhed at Hartford, alfo enlarged, but with totally different motives from the edition of Philadelphia. It alfo diffents from that printed at Worcefter, even fpecifying in its title page, that it contains Murray's Treatife on Punctuation at large." Although altered with fuch contradictory views, each claims a preference, each claims a copy right, and each claims a profit. The publifher of one of the altered editions (that at Phi- ladelphia) announces, that " the manifeft fuperiority of his, over every other American edition of Murray's Abridgment, muft enfure to it Si decided preference wherever it can be obtained." ! ! It will amufe many to be made acquainted with the ingenious ex- pedients ufed by ibme of the authors of thefe mutilated editions to give them importance. The editor of the Philadelphia edition, though perhaps the leaft valuable of the whole, in recommendation of his performance, addreifcs the public thus : " The very rapid faie of the former edition of this book, and its cxtenfive circulation throughout the continent, now induce me to pub- lifh a fecond." This " former edition," it is neceffary to remark, confifted of one thoufand copies, which, aided by a feries of newfpaper advertife- ments, were pufhed off in eighteen months, that period having elapfed between the appearance of the firft and the fecond edition. Of the REAL Murray V Abridgment, or that made by LINDLEY MUR- RAY himfelf, there have been fold, during the fame- period, in the pri dilated *' THROUGHOUT THE CONTINENT." Not a copy has pro- bably ever reache-d Cape Horn, Baffin's Bay, nor Nootka .Sound, " throughout" all which places, it fhould feem that the pro- duction of the iingular Grammarian of Philadelphia has had an. *' extenfive circulation" ! ! The fame editor, \\ acurer.ef*, ur^eshisfuperiority over LINDLEY MURRAY, becauie, forlboth! he (the editor) is an " ex- perienced teacher." Murray, he avers, <; finnot be/w ivtll acquainted" 5;c. It docs not appear to have occurred to him that three, equally, or perhaps more " experienced teachers," as we have had occafion t< differ from him, have altered the work for reafons dlreStly ' all had perhaps quite as much of the rt and " recommendations" of particular friends, and have all, no doubt, thought ther.ilc.lves entitled to receive as large a pecuniary compensation for thtir " improvements." ! ! ! lile jinijlrorfitm. Lie ii xtrorfum^ ttnus utrlqile E R K o K In juftice, however, to i~>me of the f rivnd: of the Philadelphia edition, who gave him written recommcndal for t: tluit th^y honourably laid that 1 arid adoptetl the gennn. of M.. In conffqnencc o 1 from the pen of the ai,- Grammar, arc Inid , iti the ihoit peri. ?d oi' eleven years, hr.s paflcd that , and .loptcd in nrurly n both coin it. ! ni the pub!: and c met \ of S and ad d to jufti;; .:UKRAY approv- ed of ;-ed on the much abu! i.inc'ilry Murray, mirc cautious in cha- C. & P. with " v : uoR, and efpecialiy with mslateit imp'-cvemcnts. I liiall make it a point to communicate to them, from time to time, and as early as poflible, copies of all the new and improved editions of the books. It affords me a peculiar gratification to perceive, that my publications are fo extenfively dilfufed over my native country.' 1 COLLINS & PERKINS think it due to the author of this very valuable Grammar, as well as to the caufe of literature in general, to make known that, although they are at all times enabled to f'upply the lateft American editions of the real Murray's Grammar* yet they are indifpofed to monopolize the profits ariiing from the fale of a book, whofe author would himfelf never receive any ; and that they will therefore, with readinefs, as they have done hereto- fore, furnilh the lat'eft* London editions, which they regularly re- ceive from the author, to any refpeclable printers rending in other parts of the United States, who will only engage to print them handfomely and correctly. The following is a list of COLLINS editions of Murray '.y works^ with their prices at retail, and by the dozen. Wholesale Kit ail. per Doz. Cants. Dds. Cts. 1. Firft Book for Children, from 4th Eng. edit. 9 75 2. An Englifh Spelling-Book, jth do. 25 2 oo 3. An Englifh Grammar, 1 6th do. 75 7 50 4. Eng. Exercifes to the Grammar, 1 2th do. 6z-| 6 oo 5. A Key to the Englim Exercifes, roth do. 62^ 6 oo 6. An Abridgment of the Grammar, 2Oth do. 25 1 50 7. Introduction to the Eng. Reader, jth do. 6z| 6 oo 8. The Englifh Reader, 6th do. 87 1 9 oo 9. Sequel to the Engliih Reader, 2d do. 87 9 90 jo. Introduction au Lecleur Fr.ingois, 8;| 9 oo 11. Ledeur Francois, I 25 12 50 12. The Power of Religion on L!VJ Mind, i^th do. * o^> 10 oo * %* The Proprietors of Un.lhy Murray's works, think it is no fnnK recommendation o> th -ni, thdt the whole of thefe valuable publications, from " The Firft Book tor Children," to the " Power of Religion on the Mind/' m:-.y be properly confidered, as forming a little co le of important elementary inftru<9tion. They are ilri lly fubfervicnt to one inuth-r, ati I moil intimately conne'fted. Their peculiar and acknowledged excellence is, that in every part of them, the pureft principles of piety and virtue, itre happily bbnded with th.- elements of literature. They may, therefore, with the greeted confidence, bc'put into the hands of young perfons, as books which (to ufe ti;e language of a Reviewer respecting them) " will eminent y conduce to pure religion and morality, and to the aequifition of a correct and elegant ftylc." INTRODUCTION TO THE ENGLISH READER. PART I. PIECES IN PROSE. CHAPTER I. SELECT SENTENCES AND PARAGRAP! SECTION I. i O be good is to be happy. Vice foon or late brings mifery. We were not made for ourfelves only. A good perfon has a tender concern for the happinefs of others. Modefty is one of the chief ornaments of youth. Deceit discovers a little mind. Cultivate the love of truth. No confidence can be placed in thofe who are in the habit of lying. Neglect no opportunity of doing good. B 2 Introduction, &c\ Part i. Idlenefs is the parent of vice and mifery. Cleanlinefs promotes health of body and delica- cy of mind. The real wants of nature are foon fatisfied. A contented mind is an ineftimable treafure. Deliberate before you promife. Boaft not of the favours you beftow. Merit the approbation of the wife and good. It is a great bleffing to have pious and virtuous parents. The moft fecret acts of goodnefs are feen and approved by the Almighty. ,e SECTION II. OUR reputation, virtue, and happinefs, greatly epend on the choice of our companions. Good or bad habits, formed in youth, generally go with us through life. We fhould be kind to all perfons, even to thofe who are unkind to us. When we acknowledge our mifconduct, and are forry for it, generous and good perfons will pity and forgive us. Our be ft friends are thofe who tell us of our faults, and teach us how to correct them. If tales were not liftened to, there would be no tale-bearers. To take fincere pleafure in the bieffings and ex- cellences of others, is a fure mark of a good heart. We can never treat a fellow-creature ill, with- out offending the gracious Creator and Father of all. SeleR Sentences, &c. 3 A kind word, nay, even a kind look, often af- fords comfort to the afflicted. Every defire of the heart, every fecret thought, is known to him who made us. SECTION III. llr tint cares only for himfelf, has but few plea- furcs ; and thofe few are of the loweft order. may efcape the cenfure of others, when we wrong privately j but we cannot avoid the re- proaches of our own mind. Partiality to felf ofren hides from us our own faults; we fee very clearly the fame faults in others, fport with pain and diftrefs, in any of your amufements ; nor treat even the meaneft in- fect with wanton cruelty. Vicious purfuits may yield a fewfcattered plea- fures ; but piety and virtue will make our whole life hap j y paints pleafurcs at a diftance with beauti- ful colours ; but pofsefllon often takes away their beauty. We fhould accuftom ourfelves to bear fmall inju- ..ill then be better able to fup- ' great 01, on provoked by the follies of others, think our own imperfections ; be patient and humble. Without frugality none can be rich ; and with uld be poor. good or bad difpofition of children often .elf, in their behaviour to fervants and in- 4 .Introduction, &t. Part i. feriors ; it is feen even in their treatment of dumb animals. They who ridicule the wife and good are dan- gerous companions , they bring virtue itfeif into contempt. We cannot be good as God is good, to all per- fons every where ; but we can rejoice, that every where there is a God to do them good. SECTION iv. WH N blefled with health and profperity, cul- tivate a humble and compaffionate difpolition ; think of the diftreffes of human life ; of the foli- tary cottage, the dying parent, and weeping orphan. Avoid all harfhnefs in behaviour : treat every o.ne with that courtefy which fprings from a mild and gentle heart. Be flow in forming intimate connexions : they may bring diflionour and mifery. Almoft all our deiires are apt to wander into an improper courfe : to direct them properly requires care ; but that care will render us safe and happy through life. The days that are paft, are gone for ever , thofe that are to come, may not come to us , the prefent time only is ours : let us, therefore, improve it as much as poffible. They \vho are moderate in their expectations, meet with few difappointments : the eager and pre- fumptuous are continually disappointed. Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing Chap, i . Select Sentences, &c. 5 well : but it is impoffiblc to do any thing well with- out attention. Let us not expect too much pleafure in this life ; no fituation is exempt from trouble. The bed perfons are, no doubt, the happieft ; but they too have their trials and afflictions. SECTION Y. How greatly do tjie kind offices of a dutiful and child, gladden the heart of a parent, efpeciaily when linking under age or infirmities! What better proof can we give of wifdom and goodnefs, than to be content with the ftation in which Providence has placed us ? An honeft man, (as Pope expreiTes himfelf,) is the noble ft work of God. ' How pleafant it is, when we lie down at night, to reflect that we are at peace with all perfons ! have carefully performed the duties of the 1 that the Almighty beholds and loves us ! HOY fhould we forgive thofe who offend us, if we cnnfidered how much our heavenly Fa- ther ha forgiven us ! iiange the humble peace which virtue gives, for all the honours and pleafures of a vain world ? Pride (to ufc the emphatical words of a facred writer) was not made for man. How can we fpend our time foolifhly, when we know that we muft give an account hereafter, of thoughts, words, and actions ? How glorious an object is the sun ! t>ut how 13 2 6 Introduction, &c. Part r. much more glorious is that great and good Being who mjde it for our ufe ! Behold, how rich and beautiful are the works of nature ! What a bountiful proviilon is made for our wants and pleafures ! Surely, the author of fa many bleffings is worthy of our love and grati- tude ! SECTION VI. CYRU s, when young, being afked what was the firft thing which he learned, anfwered , " To fpeak the truth/* Epaminondas, the celebrated Theban general, was remarkable for his love of truth. He never told a lie even in jeft. All our moral duties are contained in thefe few words ; " Do as you would be done by.'' The following was a favourite fentiment of the wife and good Socrates : " We fhould eat and drink, in order to live ; i-nftead of living, as many do, to eat and drink/' Artaxerxes Mnemon, king of Perfia, being, up- on an extraordinary occafion, reduced to eat barley bread and dried figs, and to drink water ; " What pleafure/' faici he, " have I loft till now, by my delicacies and excefs ! J ' When Cato drew near the clofe of life, he made this moft benevolent declaration to his friends : u The greateft comfort of my old age, is, the plea- fing remembrance of the friendly offices I have done to others. To fee them eafy and happy by my meansj makes me truly fo." Chap. i. SeleR Sentences, toV. 7 Mark Anthony, when under adv 7 erfe circumftan- ces, made this intereiling exclamation ; " I have loft all, except what I have given away !" The emperor Marcus Aurelius, a pious and good man, exprelTed the benevolence of his heart, in thefe words : "I cannot reliih a happinefs which no one partakes of but myfclf. ' Edward the VI. king of England, being, when very young, required by his uncle to fign a warrant for the execution of a poor woman, on account of her religious principles, faid, with tears in his eyes : " I ahnoft wilh I had never learned to write/' SECTION VII. PITY the forrows and fufferings of the poor. Disdain not to enter their wretched abodes j nor to liflen to their moving lamentations. Gratitude is a delightful emotion. The grate- ful heart at once performs its duty, and endears it* felf to others. If we ought to be grateful for fervices received from our friends, how ihould our hearts glow with thankfulnefs to Him, who has given us being, and all the bleilings we enjoy ! Young people too often fet out in life, with too much confidence in themfelves. Alas ! how little do they know the dangers which await them ! To repine at the improvements of others, and tvifh to deprive them of the praife they have defer- , is an envious and odious disposition. ought not to be proud or vain of the advan- 8 Introduction^ &c. Part I. tages we poflefs ; but humbly endeavour to ufe them for the benefit of our fellow-creatures, and the glory of that great Being from whom we have received them. If we confider how much the comfort, or the uneafinefs of all around us, depends on the ftate of our own temper, we fhould fiirely endeavour to render it fweet and accommodating. When we feel our inability to refift evil, and to do good, what a comfort it is, to know that our heavenly Father will, if we humbly apply to him, hear our prayers, and gracioufly affiil us ! When young perfons are afflicted with illnefs, how greatly do they endear themfelves to a|l about them, by being tractable, cdnfiderate, gentle, and grateful ! but how painful it is, to fee them peevifh, felf-willed, and unthankful ! How much do the former qualities lefTen the affliction ; and the latter, increafe it ! A family where the great Father of the univerfe is duly reverenced ^ where parents are honoured and obeyed ; where brothers and fitters dwell 'to- gether in love and harmony ; where peace and or- der reign ; where there is no law but the law of kindnefs and wifdom ; is furely a mofl delightful and in tere fling fpectacle ! SECTION VIII. GOD is the kindefr ind beft of beings. He is our Father. He approves us when we do well : he pities us when we t r r . and he clefires to make us happy for eva , How greatly fliould we love Cbnp. i. Select Sentences, isV. g fo good and kind a Father ! and how careful fhould we be to ferve and please him. Never infult the unfortunate, especially when they implore relief or affiftance. If you cannot grant their requefts, refufe them mildly and ten- derly. If you feel compaflion for them, (and it good heart can behold diftreis without fecl- compaflion ?) be not afliamed to exprefs it. Liften to the affectionate counfels of your pa- ts ; treaiurc up their precepts ; respect their r judgment ; ,and enjoy, with gratitude and de- light, the advantages refuiting from their fociety. Bind to your bofom, by the moft endearing ties, your brothers and fifters ; cherifh them as your belt companions, through the variegated journey of life; and fuffer no jealoufies and contentions to interrupt the harmony, which fliould ever reign ainongft you. They who are accuftomed to view their com- panions in the moil favourable light, are like per- ibns who dwell amidft thole beautiful fcenes of nature, on which the eye refts with pleafure. Sut- picious perfons resemble the traveller in the wilder- ncfo, who Ices no objects around him, but what are r dreary or terrible. < TION ix. /ole youth lamented, in terms of fincere i, the death of a moft affectionate parent. companion endeavoured to confole him by the clion, that he had always behaved to the de- '.vith duty, tendernefs, and refpect. " So I JO Introduction > &c. Part I. thought/' replied the youth, " whilft my parent was living : but now I recollect, with pain and for- row, many inftances of difobedience and negledl, for which, alas ! it is too late to make atonement." Sir Ifaac Newton pofTefTed a remarkably mild and even temper. This great man, on a particu- lar occafion, was called out of his ftudy to an adjoining apartment. A little clog, named Dia- mond, the conftant but incurious attendant of his mafter's refearches, happened to be left among the papers ; and threw down a lighted candle, which confumed the almoft fini(hed labours of fome years. Sir Ifaac foon returned, and had the mortification to behold his irreparable lofs. But, with his usual felf-poffeflion, he only exclaimed ; u Oh Diamond Diamond ! thou little knoweft the mifchief thou haft done." Chieen Caroline having obferved that her daugh- ter, the princefs , had made one of the ladies about her ftand a long time, whilft fhe was talking to her on fome trifling fubjecl, was refolv- ed to give her a suitable reprimand. When the princefs came in the evening, as usual, to read to her, and was drawing a chair to fit down, the queen faid ; " No, my dear, you muft not fit at prefent , for I intend to make you ftand this even- ing, as long as yon fuffered lady to remain in the fame poiition/' The benevolent John Howard, having fettled his accounts at the clofe of a particular year, and found a balance in his favour, propofed to his wife to make ufe of it in a journey to London, or in any other amufement (he chofe. " What a pretty Select Sentences^ &c. ir cottage for a poor family it would build !*' was her anfwer. This charitable hint met his cordial approbation, and the money was laid out accor- dingly. Horace, a celebrated Roman poet, relates, that a countryman, who wanted to pafs a river, flood loitering on the banks of it, in the foolifh expecta- tion, that a current fo rapid would foon difcharge its waters. But the ftream ftill flowed, increafed, perhaps, by frefli torrents from the mountains : and it muft for ever flow, becaufe the fources, from which it is derived, are inexhaustible. Thus, the idle and irrefolute youth trifles over his books, or waftes in play the precious moments ; deferring the tafk of improvement, which at firft is eafy to be accomplifhed, but which will become more and more difficult, the longer it is neglected. CHAPTER II. NARRATIVE PIECES. SECTION I. The pious sons. AN one of thofe terrible eruptions of mount -/Etna, which have often happened, the danger to the in- habitants of the adjacent country, was uncommonly great. To avoid immediate deftruction from the flames, and the melted lava which ran down the fides of the mountain, the people were obliged to retire to a confiderable diftance. Amidft the hur- ry and confufion of fuch a fcene, (every one fly- ing and carrying away whatever he deemed moil precious,) two brothers, the one named Anapias, the other Amphinomus, in the height of their fo- licitude for the prefervation of their wealth and goods, fuddenly recolle&ecl that their father and mother, both very old, were unable to fave them- felves by flight* Filial tendernefs triumphed over every other confideration. " Where," cried the generous youths, " fhall we find a more precious treafure, than they are who gave us being, and who have cherifhed and protected us, through life ?*' Having faid this, the one took up his father on his fhoulders, and the other his mother, and happily made their way through the furrounding fmoke and flames. All who were witnefies of this dutiful and affectionate conduct, were ftruck with Chap, 2. Narrative Pieces. 13, the higheft admiration : and they and their pofte- rity, ever after, called the path which these good young men took in their retreat, " The Field of the Pious." SECTION II. Filial sen/Utility. A STRONG inftance of affectionate and duti-r ful attachment to parents, has been related in the preceding feftion. The following difplay of filial tendernefs, is fcarcely less interfiling and extraor- dinary. A young gentleman in one of the academies at Paris, was remarked for eating nothing but foup and dry bread, and drinking only water. The go.- vernor of the inftitution, attributing this fmgula- rity to excess of devotion, reproved his pupil, and endeavoured to perfuade him to alter his rcfolu- tion. Finding, however, that his remonftrances were ineffeftu-.il, he fent for him again, and ob- ferved to him, that fuch conduct was highly unbe- coming, 31 '' that it was his duty to conform to the rules of the academy. He then endeavoured to learn the reafon of his pupil's conduct : but as the youth con I,! not be prevailed upon to impart the fecret, the governor at laft threatened to fend him back to his family. This menace produced an immediate explanation : " Sir," faid the young , u in my father's house I eat nothing but .< bread, and of that very little : hert I have i foup, and excellent white bread j and though C J4 Introduction) &c. Part i. I might, if I chofe it, fare luxurioufly, I cannot perfuade myfelf to take any thing elfe, when I re- fled on the fituation in which I have left my fa- ther and mother" The governor was greatly moved by this inftance of filial fenfibility, and could not refrain from tears. " Your father," faid he, '* has been in the army ; has he no penfion ?'* " No/' replied the youth: he has long been foli- citing one ; but, for want of money, has been ob- liged to give up the purfuit : and rather than con- tract any debts at Verfailles, he has chofen a life of wretchednefs in the country." " Well," returned I the governor, "if the facl: is as you have repre- fented it, I promife to procure for your father a penfion of five hundred livres a year. And fince your friends are in fo reduced circumftances, take these three louis d'or, for your pocket expences. I will undertake to remit your father the firft half year of his penfion, in advance/' "Ah, Sir,!" replied the youth, " as you have the goodnefs to propofe remitting a fum of money to my father, I entreat you to add to it thefe three louis d'or. As I have here every thing I can wifh for, I do not need them : but they would be of great use to my father in the maintenance of his other children." Narrative Pieces. 15 SECTION in. Cruelty to infecls condemned. A CERTAIN youth indulged himfelf in the cruel entertainment of torturing and killing flies. He tore off their wings and legs, and then watched with pleafure their feeble efforts to efcapc from him. Sometimes he collected a number of them toge- ther, and crufhed them at once to death \ glory- ing, like many a celebrated hero, in the devas- tation he committed. His tutor remonftrated with him, in vain, on this barbarous conduct. He could not perfuade him to believe that flies are ca- pable of pain, and have a right, no lefs than our* felves, to life, liberty, and enjoyment. The figns of agony, which, when tormented, they exprefs, by the quick and various contortions of their bo- dies, he neither underftood, nor regarded. The tutor had a microfcope; and he defired his pupil, one day, to examine a moft beautiful and furprifing animal. " Mark/' faid he, " how it ' is ftudded from head to tail with black and filver, and its body all over befct with the moft curious briftles ! The head contains the moft lively eyes, encircled with filver hairs -, and the trunk confifts wo parts, which fold over each other. The whole body is ornamented with plumes and de- corations, which furpafs all the luxuries of drefs, the courts of the greateft princes. " Pleafed 1 aftoni flied with what he faw. the youth was impatient to know the name and properties of this wonderful animal. It was withdrawn from the ( 'i 6 Introdurtion, $9V. Part r, magnifier ; and when offered to his naked eye, proved to be a poor fly, which had been the victim of his wanton cruelty. PERCIVAL. SECTION IV. SelfiJJj forrow reproved. ONE day, during the fumtner vacation, Alexis had prepared himfelf to fet out, with a party of his companions, upon a little journey of pleafure. But the Iky lowered, the clouds gathered, and he re- mained for fome time in anxious fufpenfe about his expedition j which at laft was prevented by hea- ty and continued rain. The difappointment over- powered his fortitude; he burft into tears ; lament- ed the untimely change of weather ; and fuddenly refufed all confolation. In the evening, the clouds were difperfed ; the fun fhone with unufual brightnefs j and the face of nature feemed to be renewed in vernal beauty. Euphronius conduced Alexis into the fields. The ftorm of palfion in his bread was now flilled ; and the ferenity of the air, the mulic of the feathered fongfters. the verdure of the meadows, andthefweet perfumes which breathed around, regaled every fenfe, and filled his mind with delightful emotions. <; Do not you remark," faid Euphronius, " the delightful change which has fuddenly taken place in the whole creation ? Recollecl the appearance of the fcene before us yefterday. The ground was then parched with a long drought; the flowers hid *heir drooping heads j no fragrant odours were Ckap. 2. Narrative Piece:-. 17 perceived ; and vegetation Teemed to ceafe. To what cauie mud we impute the revival of nature ?" " To the rain which fell this morning/' replied Alexis, with a modeft confuiion. He was ftruck with the felfiihnds and folly of his conduct ; and his own bitter reflections anticipated the reproofs of Euphronius. rERCivAL, SECTION v . ,ire often deceived by appearances. A YOUTH, who lived in the country, and who h.u: i;rcd, either by reading or converfation, any knowledge of the animals which inhabit fo reiiM ,s, came to Mancheftcr, to fee an ex- hibition of wild b^-.iU'. The fize and figure of the elephant ftruck him with awe , and he viewed the rhinoceros with aftonilhment. But his attention foon withdrawn from thefc animals, and direc- ted to another, of the mo ft elegant and beautiful form. He ftood contemplating, with filent admi- ration, the glofly fmoothnefs of his hair ; the black-* nefs and regularity of the ftreaks with which he was marked ; the fymmetry of his limbs ; and, above all, the placid fweetnefs of his countenance. " What is the name of this lovely animal," laid to the keeper, " which you have placed near one of the uglieft beafts in your colle&ion, as if you meant to contraft beauty with deformity ?" " Be- ware, young man," replied the intelligent keeper, " of being fo eaiily captivated with external ap- The animal which you admire, is call* C 2 1 8 tni'ioduftion, &5V. Part I. ed a tiger : and notwithftanding the meeknefs of his looks, he is fierce and favage beyond defcription. I can neither terrify him by correction, nor tame him by indulgence. But the other beaft, which you defpife, is in the higheft degree docile, affection- ate, and ufeful. For the benefit of man, he tra- ^erfes the fandy deferts of Arabia, where drink and pafture are feldom to be found ; and will con- tinue fix or feven days without fuftenance, yet ftili patient of labour. His hair is manufactured into clothing ; his flefh is deemed wholefome nourifh- ment , and the milk of the female is much valued by the Arabs. The camel, therefore, for fuch is the name given to this animal, is more worthy of your admiration than the tiger 5 notwithftanding the inelegance of his make, and the two bunches upon his back. For mere external beauty is of lit- tle eftimation ; and deformity, when aflbciated with amiable difpofitions and ufeful qualities, does iiot preclude our refpecfc and approbation. PERCJVAL* SECTION VI. The two bees. ON a fine morning in fummer, two bees fet for- ward in queft of honey ; the one wife and tempe- rate, the other carelefs and extravagant. They foon arrived at a garden enriched with aromatic herbs, the moft fragrant flowers, and the moft delicious fruits. They regaled tbemfelves with the various dainties that were spread before them j the one Ckaf. 2. Narrative Piece. 19 loaded his thighs at intervals with provifions for the hive againft the dtftant winter : the other revelled in fvveets without regard to any thing but his pre- fent gratification. At length they found a wide- mouthed phial, that hung beneath the bough of a peach-tree, filled with honey ready tempered, and expofed to their tafte in the moil alluring manner, thoughttefs epicure, in fpite of his friend's re- monftrances, plunged headlong into the veflel, re- folving to indulge himfelf in all the pleafures of fen- fuality. His philofophic companion, on the other hand, Tipped a little, with caution j but, being fuf- picious of danger, flew off to fruits and flowers ; where, by the moderation of his meals, he improv- !< .;srelifh for the true enjoyment of them. In the evening, however, he called upon his friend, to inqul ':er he would return to the hive: but he found him furfeitcd in fweets, which he was as unable to leave as to enjoy. Clogged in his wings, enfeebled in his feet, and his whole frame to- tally enervated, he was but juftable to bid his friend adieu ^ and to lament, with his lateft breath, that though a tafte of pleafure may quicken the relifh of life, an umvftrained indulgence leads to inevitable dcftrucVion. DODSLEY. SECTION VII. Ingenuity and inditftry rewarded. A RICH hufbandman had two fons, the one ex- y a year older than the other. The very day the fecund was born, he fet in the entrance of his 2O IniroduElioriy &c. Part I, orchard, two young apple-trees of equal fize, which he cultivated with the fame care, and which grew fo equally, that no perfon could perceive the lead difference between them. When his children were capable of handling garden tools, he took them, one fine morning in fpring, tafee thefe two trees, which he had planted for them, and called after their names : and when they had fufficiently admired their growth, and the number of bloftbms that co- vered them, he faid, " My dear children, I give you thefe trees : you fee they are in good condi- tion. r Riey will thrive as much by your care, as they will decline by your negligence j and their ^ ^ fruit will reward you in proportion to your labour/' The youngeit, named Edmund, was induilrious and attentive. He bulled himfelf in clearing his tree of infefts that would hurt it ; and he propped up its ftem, to prevent its taking a wrong bent. He loofened the earth about it, that the warmth of the fun, and the moisture of the dews, might che- rifh the roots. His mother had not tended him more carefully in his infancy, than he tended his young apple-tree. His brother, Mofes, did not imitate his example. He fpent a great deal of time on a mount that was near, throwing ftones at the paflengers in the road. He went among all the little dirty country boys in the neighbourhood, to box with them ; fo that he was often feen with broken fhins and black eyes, from the kicks and blows he received in his quar- rels. In fhort, he negie&ed his tree fo far, that he never thought of it, till, one day in autumn, he, by chance, faw Edmund's tree fo full of apples . 2. Narrative Pieces. 2 1 ftreaked with purple and gold, that had it not been for the props which fupported its branches, the weight of its fruit muft have bent it to the ground. Struck with the fight of fo fine a tree, he haften- ed to his own, hoping to find as large a crop upon it : but, to his great furprife, he faw fcarcely any :g except branches covered with mofs, and a few yellow withered leaves. Full of paflion and oufy, he ran to his father, and faid , " Father, what fort of a tree is that which you have given me? It is as dry as a broomftick ; and I fhall not have ten apples on it. My brother you have ufed better: bid him atleaft fhare his apples with me/' " Share with you !" faid his father ; " fo the induftrious muft lofe his labour, to feed the idle ! Be fatisfied with your lot : it is the effect of your negligence; and do not think to accufe me of injuftice, when you fee your brother's rich crop. Your tree was as fruitful, and in as good order as his : it bore as many bloiToms, and grew in the fame foil, only it was not foftered with the fame care. Edmund has kept his tree clear of hurtful infects ; bu8| you have fuffered them to eat up yours in its blof- foms. As I do not choofe to let any thing which God has given me, and for which I hold myfelf accountable to him, go to ruin, I (hall take this tree from you, and call it no more by your name. It muft pafs through your brother's hands, before it can recover itfelf ; and from this moment, both it and the fruit it may bear are his property. You , if you will, go into my nurfery, and look for another ; and rear it, to make amends for your 22 Introduction^ &c. Part r. faults : but if you neglecl it, that too fliall be given to your brother, for affifting me in my labour.'' Mofes felt the juftice of his father's fentence, and the wifdom of his deiign. He therefore went that moment into the nurfery, and chofe one of the mod thriving apple-trees he could find. Ed- mund aflifted him with his advice in rearing it ; and Mofes embraced every occafion of paying at- tention to it. He was now never out of humour with his comrades, and ftill lefs with himfeif 5 for he applied cheerfully to work \ and in autumn he had the pleafure of feeing his tree fully anfwer his hopes. Thus he had the double advantage of en- riching himfelf with a fplendid crop of fruit ; and, at the fame time, of subduing the vicious habits he had contracted. His father was fo well pleafed with this change, that, the following year, he divided the produce of a fmall orchard between him and his brother. BERQJJIN. SECTION VIII. The fecret of being always satisfied. A CERTAIN Italian bi (hop, was remarkable for his happy and contented difpofltion. He met with much oppofition, and encountered many difficulties in his journey through life : but it was obferved that he never repined at his condition, or betrayed the leaft degree of impatience. An intimate friend of his, who highly admired the virtue which he thought it impoffible to imitate, one day alked Narrative Piece*. 2;^ prelate if he could communicate the fecret of being always fatisfied. " Yes/' replied the good old man, " I can teach you my fecret, and with great facility. It confifts in nothing more, than in making a right ufe of my eyes." His friend begged him to ex- plain himfelf. " Mod willingly,'' returned the bifhop. " In whatever ftate I am, I firft of all look up to heaven ; and reflect that my principal bufinefs here, is to get there. I then look down upon the earth, and call to mind that, when I am dead, I {hall occupy but a fmall (pace in it.. I then look abroad into the world, and observe what multitudes there are, who, in every refpecl, are lefs fortunate than myfelf. Thus I learn where true, happinefs is placed ; where all our cares muft endy and how very little reafon I have to repine, or to complain." SECTION IX. Beneficence its own rewat'J. PIGALLE, the celebrated artift, was a man of great humanity. Intending, on a particular occa- flon, to make a journey from Lyons to Paris, he laid by twelve louis-d'or to defray his expenfes. But a little before the time propofed for his fetting out, he obferved a man walking with ftrong marks of deep-felt forrow, in his countenance, and deport- ment. Pigalle, impelled by the fcrlings of a be- olent heart, accofted him, and inquired^ with cndcrnefs, whether it was in his power to id him any relief. The ftranger, imprcr 24 Introduction, &t\ Part ,i . with the manner of this friendly addrefs, did not hefitate to lay open his diftreiled fituation. " For want of ten louis-d'or/' faid he, " Imuft be drag- ged this evening to a dungeon ; and be feparated from a tender wife and a numerous family." " Do you want no more ?' J exclaimed the humane artift. " ( Come along with me ; I have twelve louis-d'or ?n my trunk ; and they are all at your fervice." The next day a friend of Pigalle's met him ; and inquired whether it was true, that he had, as was publickly reported, very opportunely relieved a poor man and his family, from the greateft diftrefs. : Ah, my friend !*' faid Pigalle, " what a delicious upper did Imakelaft night, upon bread and cheefe, a family whofe tears of gratitude marked the goodnefs of their hearts ; and who blefTed me at every mouthful they eat !" SECTION x. The compajfionate judge. THE celebrated Charles Anthony Domat, was promoted to the office of a judge of a Provincial court, in the fouth of France, in which he prefi- ded, with public applaufe, for twenty-four years. One day a poor widow brought a complaint 1 before him, againft the baron de Nairac, her landlord, for turning her out of poffeffion of a farm which was her whole dependence. Domat heard the caufe 5 and finding by the cleareft evidence, that the wo- man had ignorantly broken a covenant in the leafe, which empowered the landlord to take pofleflion Narrative P. 25 of the farm, he recommended mercy to the baron to- wards a poor honed tenant, who had not willingly tranfgreffed, or done him any material injury. But Nairac being inexorable, the judge was obliged to pronounce a fentence of cxpulfion from the farm, and to order payment of the damages mentioned in the leafe, together with the cofts of the fuit. In delivering this fentence, Domat wiped his eyes, from which tears of compaffion Hovved plentifully. When the order of feizure, both of her perfon and effects, was decreed, the poor woman exclaimed : d fome time lilent. Then looking ear- neftly at his prifoner, he laid, in a voice that was at once foftened In aefs and grief; c "' Haft thou a father ?'' " My father," fai;l the young man, " was alive when I left my country. 1 ' " Alas !" lie Indian, " how wret' !>< j muft he be !" \uil\l a niom^nt, and then added, u Doft thou know that I have been a father ? I am a fa* D2 ; ,o Introduction y &c. Part i> ther no more. -I faw my fon fall in battle. He fought at my fide. I faw him expire. Efc was covered with wounds, when he fell dead at my feet." He pronounced these words with the utmoft ve- hemence. His body fhook with a univerfal tre- mor. He was almoft ftifled with fighs, which he would not fuffer to efcape him. There was a keen reftleflhefs in his eye , but no tears flowed to his relief. At length, he became calm by degrees ; and, turning towards the eaft, where the fun had juft rifen ; " Doft thou fee," faid he to the young officer, " the beauty of that iky, which fparkles with prevailing day ? and 'haft thou pleafure in the light ?" ** Yes/' replied the young officer, " I have pleafure in the beauty of fo fine a iky/' :t I have none I' 9 faid the Indian, and his tears then found their way. A few minutes after, he (bowed the young man agnolia in full bloom. " Doft thou fee that beautiful tree ?" faid he, " and doft thou look up- on if with pleafure ?" " Yes/ 5 replied the officer, " I look with pleafure upon that beautiful tree/* " I have no longer any pleafure in looking upon it !" faid the Indian haftily ; and immediately ad- ded ; " Go, return to thy father, that he may ftill have pleafure, when he sees the fun- rife in the morning, and the trees bloffom in the fpring !'' Chaf. Narrative Pieces. 31 SECTION XIII. . !f behaviour of Scipio. younger, at twenty-four years of was appointed by the Roman republic to the command of the army againft the Spaniards. Soon r the conqueft of Carthagena, the capital of the empire, his and virtue were put to the following exemplary and ever memorable trial, re- d by hiftorians, ancient and modern, with uni- verlal applaufe. Being retired into his camp, fome of his officers brought him a young virgin of fuch exquifite beauty, that Ihe drew upon her the eyes ; admiration of every body. The young con- m his feat with confufion and fur- vied to be robbed of that prefence of mind and fclf-pofieflion, fo necefiary in a gene- ral, and for which Scipio was very remarkable. In ng recovered himfelf, he in- quired of the beautiful captive, in the mod civil polite manner, concerning her country, birth, ons; and finding that {he was betroth- iberian prince named Allucius, he or- dered both him and the captive's parents to be fent for. When the Spanifh prince appeared in his Cj Scipio took him aiide ; and to remove the anxiety he might feel on account of the young lady, addrefled him in thcfc words : " You and I are young, which admits of my fpeaking to you with freedom. They who brought me your future fpoufk allured me at the fame time, that you loved her whh extreme tendernefs , and her beauty and 3 2 Introduction) &c. Part r. merit left me no room to doubt it. Upon which, I reflected, that if I were in your fituation, I fhould hope to meet with favour : I therefore think my- felf happy in the present conjuncture to do you a fervice. Though the fortune of war has made me your matter, I defire to be your friend. Here is your wife : take her, and may you be happy ! You may reft assured, that flie has been amongft us, as fhe would have been in the houfe of her father and mother. Far be it from Scipio to purchafe any pleafure at the expenfe of virtue, honour, and the happinefs of an honeft man ! No , I have kept her for you, in order to make you a prefent worthy of you and of me. The only gratitude I require of you, for this ineftimable gift, is, that you will be a friend to the Roman people/' Allucius's heart was too full to make- him any anfvver , but, throwing himfelf at the general's feet, he wept aloud : the captive lady fell down in the fame pofture^ and re- mained fo till the aged father, overwhelmed 7ith tranfports of joy, burft into the following words : " O excellent Scipio ! Heaven has given thee more than human virtue. O glorious leader ! O won- drous youth ! what pleafure could equal that which mud now fill thy heart, on hearing the prayers of this grateful virgin, for thy health-and profperity ? }> Such was Scipio , a foldier, a youth, a heathen ! nor was his virtue unrewarded. Allucius, charm- ed with fuch magnanimity, liberality, and polite- nefs, returned to his own country, and publiflied, on all occalions, the praifes of his generous and humane victor ; crying out, " that there was come into Spain a young hero, who conquered all things ' Chap. Narrative Pieces. . -33 leis by the force of his arms, than by the charms of his virtue, and the greatnefs of his beneficence." DODD. SECTION XIV. Virtue in humble ///<'. IN the preceding fef All thefe are your property/' faid he, addreffing the gentleman who had loft the bag : " the money into my hands ; I purchafed this farm with it ; yours. The vicar has an inftrument .ir property, though 1 had died 36 Introduction , &c. Part I. without feeing you/ 3 The ftranger read the in- ftrument with emotion : he looked on Perrin, Lu- cetta, and the children. " Where am I,'' cried he, " and what do I hear : What virtue in people of fo low a condition ! Have you any other land but this farm ?" " No," replied Perrin ; " but you will have occafion for a tenant, and I hope you will allow me to remain here." " Your honefty deferves a better recompense/' anfvvered the flran- ger. " My fuccefs in trade has been great, and I have forgotten my lofs. You are well entitled to this little fortune: keep it as your own. What man in the world could have acted more nobly than you have done ?'' Perrin and Lucetta fhed tears of affection and joy. " My dear children/' faid Per- rin, &c. Part I. held in one hand a distaff;' on the oppofite arm hung a work-balket ; and the girdle round her waift was garnifhed with fciffors, knitting needles, reels, and other -implements of female labour. A bunch of keys hung at her fide. She thus ac- cofted the fleeping girl. " Meliffa, I am the genius who have ever been the friend and companion of your motherland I now offer you my protection. I have no allure- ments to tempt you with like thofe of my gay ri- val. Inftead of fpending all your time in amufe- ments, if you enter yourfelf of my train, you mud rife early, and pafs the long day in a variety of em- ployments, fome of them difficult, fome laborious, and all requiring exertion of body or of mind. You muft drefs plainly ; live moftly at home , and aim at being ufeful rather than fhining. But in return, I will infure you content, even fpirits, felf-approba- tion, and the efteetn of all who thoroughly know you. Ifthefe offers appear to your young mind lefs inviting than thofe of my rival, be afliired, however, that they are more real. She has pro- mifed much more than flie can ever make good. Perpetual pleafures are no more in the power of Diffipation, than of Vice and Folly, to beftow. Her delights quickly pall, and are inevitably fucceeded by languor and difguft. She appears to you under a difguife, and what you fee is not her real face. For myfelf, I {hall never feem to you lefs amiable than I now do ; but, on the contrary, you will like me better and better. If I look grave to you now, you will fee me cheerful at my work ; and when work is over, I can enjoy every Innocent amufement. Chap. 2. Narrative Pieces. 39 But I have faid enough. It is time for you to choofe whom you will follow, and upon that choice all your happinefs depends. If you would know my name, it is no u SEW i FERY." Me lift a heard her with more attention than de- light \ and though overawed by her manner, fhe could not help turning again to take another look at the fir ft fpeakcr. She beheld her ftill offering her presents with io bewitching an air, that fhe felt it fcarcely pofiible to refill: ; when, by a lucky ac- urafk with which Diflipation's face was rt fully covered, fell off. A: foon as MeliiTa beheld, inftead of the fmiling features of you.th countenance wan and ghaftly with ficknefs, and foured by fretfulnefs, (he turned y with horror, and gave her hand unreluclant- > her fobcr and rincere companion. B ARB AU LD. XVI. The nolle lasket-wah'r. jrmans of rank and fortune, were for- merly remarkable for the tiiftom of having their isinftrufted in fome mechanical bufmefs, by which they might be habituated to a fpirit of induftry ; lecured from the miseries of idlenefs; and qualified, of neceflity, to fupport themfelves and their /ilies. A ftriking proof of the utility of this cuf- 1, occurs in the following narrative. A young rman nobleman of great merit and talents, paid s to an accomplished young lady of 40 Introduction, &V. 4 Part I. Palatinate ; and applied to her father for his con- fent to marry her. The old nobleman, arnongft other obfervations, afked him, " how he expected to maintain his daughter/' The young man, sur- prifed at fuch a queftion, obferved, " that his pof- feilions were known to be ample, and as fecure as the honours of his family/' u All this is very true/' replied the father ; "but you well know, that our country has fuffered much from wars and devaluation ; and that new events of this nature may fweep away all your eftate, and'render you des- titute. To keep you no longer in suspense, (con- tinued the father, with great politenefs and affec- tion,) I have ferioufly refolved never to marry my daughter to any perfon^ who, whatever may be his honours or property, does not pofTefs fome mechan- ical art, by which he may be able to fupport her in cafe of unforefeen events/' The young noble- man, deeply affected with his determination, was filent for a few minutes ; when, recovering him- felf, he declared, " that he believed his happinefs ib much depended on the propofed union, that no difficulty or fubmiffions, confident with his honour, ihould prevent him from endeavouring to accom- pi hli it/' He begge > d to know whether he might be allowed fix months to acquire the knowledge of fome manual art. The father, pleafed with the voung man's refolution, and affection for his daugh- ter, confented to the propofal ; and pledged his honour that the marriage fhould take place, if, at the expiration of the time limited, he fhould fuc- eeed in his undertaking. Animated u* the tendered regard, and by a high Narrative P^ 41 fenfe of the happinefs he hoped to enjoy, he went immediately into Flanders, engaged himfelf to a white twig bafket-maker, and applied every power of ingenuity and induftry to become {killed in the bufinefs. He foon obtained a complete knowledge of the art; and, before the expiration of the time propofed, returned, and brought with him, as fpe- cimens of his fkill, ieveral baikets adapted to fruit, flowers, and needle-work. Thefe were prefented to the young lady; and univerfally admired for the delicacy and perfection of the workmanfhip. No- thing now remained to prevent the accomplifh- ment of the noble youth's willies: and the marriage was folemnized to the flit is faction of all parties. The young couple had lived ieveral years in afflu- ence ; a J, by their virtues and moderation^ to have fecured the favours of fortune. But the ai length, extended themfelves to Palatinate. Both the families were driven from their country, and their eftates forfeited. And now o; ;oft interfiling fcene. The commenced his trade of bafket- m^king; and by his fuperior ikill in the art, fbon nilve builnefs. For many years, liberally fupported, not only his own family, but alfo that of the good old nobleman, his father- in-law: and enjoyed the high fatisfaclion of con- tributing by his own induftry, to the happinefs .-;nnexions doubly endeared to him by their mis- fortunes; and who otherwife would have funk into jet and indigence, fharpcned iembrance of better days. E 2 ( 42 ) CHAPTER III. DIDACTIC PIECES. SECTION I. Tendernefs to mothers. iVlARK that parent hen, .faid a father to his be- loved fon. With what anxious care does fhe call together her offspring, and cover them with her expanded wings ! The kite is hovering in the air, and, difappointed of his prey, may perhaps dart upon the hen herfelf, and bear her off in his talons. Does not this fight fuggeft to you the tender- nefs and afFe&ion of your mother! Her watchful care protected you in the helplefs period of in- fancy, when fhe nourifhed you with her milk, taught your limbs to move, and your tongue to lifp its unformed accents. In your childhood, fhe mourned over your little griefs-, rejoiced in your innocent delights-, adminiftered to you the healing balm in ficknefs-, and inftilled into your mind the love of truth, of virtue, and of wifdom. Oh ! cherifli every fentiment of refpecl for fuch a mo- ther. She merits your warmeft gratitude, efteem, and veneration. PERCIVAL. Chap. 3 Didaftic Pi fees. 4-3 SECTION II. RefpcEl and nffeftion due from pupils to their tutors. QUINCTILIAN fays, that he has included al- inoft all the duty of fcholars in this one piece of -ce which he gives them; to love thofe who inftruct them, as they love the fciences which they ftudy ; and to look upon them as fathers from whom they derive not the life of the body, but that in- flruction which is in a manner the life of the foul. This fentiment of affection and refpect difpofes them to apply diligently during the time of their ftudies; and preierves in their minds, during the remainder of life, a tender gratitude towards their inftructers. It ieems to include a great part of what is to be expected from them. Docility, which coniifts in readily receiving in- ftrucTions, and reducing them to practice, is pro- perly the virtue of fcholars, as that of matters is to teach well. As it is not fufficicnt for a labourer to fow the feed, unlefs the earth, after having opened its bofom to receive it, warms and moiftens it j fo the whole fruit of inftruclion depends upon a good correfpondence between mafters and fcholars. Gratitude towards thofe who have faithfully la- boured in our education, is an eflential virtue, and the mark of a good heart. " Of thofe who have been carefully inftrnctcd, who is there," fays Cicero, i( that is not delighted with the fight, and even the .embrancc of his preceptors, and the very place where he was educated ?" Seneca exhorts young 44 lutroduftwri) (3c\ Part I. men to preferve always a great refpect for their matters, to whofe care they are indebted for the amendment of their faults, and for having imbibed fentiments of honour and probity. Their exact- nefs and feverity ibrnetimes difpleafe, at an age when we are not in a condition to judge of the obli- gations we owe them; but when years have ripened our under ftanding and judgment, we difcern that admonitions, reprimands, and a fevere exadlneis in reftraining the paffions of an imprudent and iri- confiderate age, far from juftifying diflike, de- mand our eileem and love. Marcus Aurelius, one of the wifeft and moft illuftrious emperors that Rome ever had, thanked Heaven for two things efpecially ; for having had excellent tutors him- felf ; and for having found the like blefling for his children- ROLLINV SECTION III. On filial piety* FROM the creatures of God let man learn wis- dom, and apply to himfelf the inftruclion they give. Go to the defert, my fon: obferve the young ftork of the wildernefs; let him fpeak to thy heart. He bears on his wings his aged fire; he lodges him in fafety, and fupplies him with food. The piety of a child is fweeter than the incenfe of Perfia offered to the fun; yea, more delicious than odours wafted from a field of Arabian fpices, ' by the weftern gales. Didafiw Pieces. 45 Be grateful to thy father, for he gave thee life ; and to thy mother, for ihe futtained thee. Hear the words of their mouth, for they are fpoken for thy good; give ear to their admonition, for it proceeds from love. Thy father has watched for thy welfare, he has for thy eafe: do honour, therefore, to his age, let not his gray hairs be treated with irreverence. Forget not thy helplefs infancy, nor the froward- nefs of thy youth; and bear with the infirmities of thy aged parents: affift and fupport them in the decline of life. So (hall their hoary heads go down to the grave in peace: and thy own children, in reverence of thy example, (hall repay thy piety with filial love. ECONOMY OF HUM. LIFE. SECTION IV. Love between brothers and Jtjlcrs. You are the children of one father, provided for by his care; and the brcaft of one mother gave you fuck. Let the bonds of affection, therefore, unite thee with thy brothers and fitters, that peace and happincfs may dwell in thy father's houfe. And when you are feparatcd in the world, re- member the relation that binds you to love and unity; and prefer not a ttranger before thy own blood. If thy brother is in ndverfity, afiift him; if thy fitter is in trouble, forfake her not. So /hall the fortunes of thy father contribute to the fupport of his whole race ; and his care be con- tinued to you all, in your love to each other. ECONOMY OF HUM, LIFE. Introduction) (3c. Part SECTION V, "Benevolence. WHEN tliou confidereft thy wants, when thou beholdeft thy imperfeftions, acknowledge his goodnefs, O Ton of humanity! who honoured thee with reafon; endued thee with fpeechj and placed thee in fociety, to receive and confer reciprocal helps and mutual obligations. Thy food, thy clothing, thy convenience of habitation-, thy pro- tection from the injuries, thy enjoyment of the comforts and the pleafures of life : all thefe thou oweft to the affiftance of others, and couldft not enjoy but in the bands of fociety. It is thy duty, therefore, to be a friend to mankind, as it is thy intereft that man fhould be friendly to thee. Rejoice in the happinefs and profperity of thy neighbour. Open not thy ear to ilander : the faults and failings of men give pain to a bene- volent heart. Defire to do good, and iearch out occaiions for it ; in removing the oppreflion of another, the virtuous mind relieves itielf. Shut not thine ear .againft the cries of the poor; nor harden thy heart againft the calamities of the innocent. When the fatherlefs call upon thee, when the widow's heart is funk, and flie implores thy afliftance with tears' of forrow; pity their afflic- tion, and extend thy hand to thofe who have none to help them. When thou i'eeft the naked wan- derer of the ftreet, fhivering with cold, and defti- tute of habitation, let bounty open thy heart \ let Chap. 3. Didatlic Pieces. 47 the wings of charity fhelter him from death, that thy own foul may live. Whilft the poor man groans on the bed of ficknefs, whilft the unfortu- nate languish in the horrors of a dungeon ; or the hoary head of age lifts up a feeble eye to thee for pity , how canit thou riot in fuperfluous enjoy- ments, regardlefs of their wants, unfeeling of their WOes ? ECONOMY OF HUM. LIFE. SECTION VI. Ingratitude to our Supreme Benefactor, is kigkly culf. i ARTABANES was diftinguifhed with peculiar fa- vour by a wife, powerful, and good prince. A magnificent palace, furroundcd with a delightful garden, was provided for his refidence. He par- took of all the luxuries of his fovereign's table, was inverted with extenfive authority, and admitted to the honour of a free intercourfe with his gracious mafter. But Artabanes was infenfible of the ad- vantages which he enjoyed ; his heart glowed not with gratitude and refpect; he avoided the fociety of his benefactor, and abufed his bounty. " I deteft fuch a character/' faici Alexis, with gene- rous indignation ! " It is your own picture which I have drawn," replied Euphronius. " The great Potentate of heaven and earth has placed you in a world, which difplays the higheft beauty, order, and magnificence; and which abounds with every means of convenience, enjoyment, and happinefs. furnifhed. you with fuch powers of body 4& Introduction j &V. Part i, and mind, as give you dominion over the fifhes of the fea, the fowls of the air, and the beafts of the field. He has invited you to hold communion with him, and to exalt your own nature, by the love and imitation of his divine perfections. Yet have your eyes wandered, with brutal gaze, over the fair creation, unconfcious of the mighty hand from which it fprung. You have rioted in the profufion of nature, without fuitable emotions of gratitude to the Sovereign Difpenfer of all good; and you have too often flighted the glorious con- verfe, and forgotten the prefence of that Omnipo- tent Being, who fills all fpace, and exifts through all eternity. PERCIVAL. SECTION VII. Speculation and praftice. A CERTAIN aftronomer was contemplating the moon through his telefcope, and tracing the extent of her feas, the height of her mountains, and the number of habitable territories which flie contains. " Let him fpy what he pleafes," faid a clown to his companion , " he is not nearer to the moon than we are." Shall the fame obfervation be made of you, Alexis ? Do you furpafs others in learning, and yet in goodnefs remain upon a level with the un- inftrucled vulgar ? Have you fo long gazed at the temple of virtue, without advancing one ftep to- wards it ? Are you fmitten with moral beauty, yet regardlefs of its attainment ? Are you a philofopher Chap. 3. Didaftic Pieces. 49 in theory, but a novice in practice ? The partiality of a father inclines me to hope, that the reverfe is true. I flatter myfelf, that by having learned to think, you will be qualified to aft ; and that the rectitude of your conduct will be adequate to your improvements in knowledge. May that wifdom which is juftified in her works, be your guide through life ! And may you enjoy all the felicity which flows from a cultivated underftanding, pious and well-regulated affections, and extenfive benevo- lence ! In thefe confifts that fovereign good, which ancient fages fo much extol ; which reafon recom- mends, religion authorizes, and God approves. P E R C I V A I, ; CHAPTER IV. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. SECTION I. The Eagle. i. HE Golden Eagle is the largeft and the nobleft .,of all thofe birds that have received the name of Eagle. It weighs above twelve pounds. Its length is three feet ; the extent of its wings, feven feet four inches , the bill is three inches long, and of a deep blue , and the eye of a hazel colour. In general, thefe birds are found in mountainous and thinly inhabited countries ; and breed among the loftieft cliffs. They choofe thofe places which are remoteft from man, upon whofe poiTeffions they but ieldom make their depredations, being contented rather to follow the wild game in the foreft, than to rilk their fafety to fatisfy their hunger. This fierce animal may be considered among birds, as the lion among quadrupeds ; and in many refpefts, they have a ftrong flmilitude to each other. They are both poffeffed of force, and an empire over their fellows of the foreft. Equally magnanimous, they difdain fmall plunder; and 'only purfue animals worthy the conqueft. It is .not till afuer having been long provoked, by the cries of the rook or the magpie, that this generous Chap. 4. Defcriptive Pieces. 5* bird thinks fit to punifh them with death. The eagle alfo difdains to (hare the plunder of another bird; and will take up with no other prey than that which he has acquired by his own puriiiits. How hungry ibever he may be, he iloops not to carrion; and when fatiatecl, never returns to the lame cur- cafs, but leaves it for other animals, more rapacious and lefs deli i himfjlf. Solitary, like the lion, he ke; : to himfclf u'o-!"s in the fame mountain, as two lions in tlv rdr.. They pie iupply ; and conlider the quantity of the bed proof of their of th ipark- ling eyes, and nearly of the fame colour; their claws are of the fame form, their breath equally Arong, and their cry equally loud and terrifying. Bred both for war, they arc enemies of all fociety; alike fierce, proud, and incapable of being eafily tamed. Of all the feathered tribe, the eagle flies higher! j and from thence the ancients have given him the title of the bird of heaven. He poffefles alfo the ; but his fenfe of fmelling, though acute, is inferior to that of a vulture. He never ^ut when his object: is in view ; and hav- I his prey, he {loops from his height, as if to examine its weight, always laying it on the ground before he carries it off. He finds no dif- ficulty in taking up geefe and cranes. He alfo carries away hares, lambs, and kids; and often vs fawns and calves, to drink their blood ; 52 IntroduEliony &c. Part i. and bears a part of their flefh to his retreat. In- fants themfelves, when left unattended, have been deftroyed by thefe rapacious creatures. An in- ftance is recorded in Scotland, of two children having been carried off by eagles, but fortunately they received no hurt by the way ; and, the eagles being purfued, the children were found unhurt in the nefts, and reftored to the affrighted parents. The eagle is thus at all times a formidable neighbour; but peculiarly fo when bringing up its young. It is then that the male and female exert all their force and incluftry to fupply their off- fpring. Smith, in his hiftory of Kerry, relates, that a poor man in that country got a comfortable fubfiftencc for his family, during a fummer of fa- mine, out of an eagle's neft, by robbing the eaglets of food, which was plentifully fnpplied by the old ones. He protracted their affiduity beyond the ufual time, by clipping the wings, and retarding the flight of the young 5 and very probably alfo, as I have known myfelf, by fo tying them as to increafe their cries, which are always found to in- creafe the parent's dcfpatch to procure them pro- viilon. It was fortunate, however, that the old eagles did not furprife the countryman thus em- ployed, as their refentment might have been tiongerous. It requires great patience and much art to tame an eagle; and even though taken young, and fubdued by long affiduity, yet it is a dangerous domeftic, and often turns its force againft its mafter. When brought into the field for the purpofes of fowling, the falconer is never fure of its attach- '. 4. Dycriptiw Pieces, 53 ment: its innate pride, and love of liberty, ftill prompt it to regain its native iblitudes. Some- times, however, eagles are brought to have an attachment to their feeder : they are then highly ferviceable, and liberally provide for his pleafures and iupport. When the falconer lets them go from his hand, they play about and hover round him till their game prcfents, which they fee at an immenfe diftance, and purfue with certain de- ftruction. It is faid that the eagle can live many weeks without food ; nnd that the period of its life ex- ceeds a hundred years. GOLDSMITH. SECTION II. The humming-bird. OF all the birds that flutter in the garden, oc paint the lanclfcape, the humming-bird is the moil : . 'lit ful to look upon, and the moft inoffenfive. Of this charming little animal, there are fix or :n varieties, from the fize of a fmall wren, down to that of an humble-bee. A European would not readily fuppofe that there exifted any birds fo very fmall, and yet fo completely furniilied with a bill, feathers, wings, and inteftines, exactly refembling thofe of the largeft kind. Birds not fo big as the end of one's little finger, would proba- fuppofed mere creatures of imagination, were they not feen in infinite numbers, and as fre- at as butterflies in a fummer's-day ? fporting in F * 54 Introduction ) &c. Part r. the fields of America, from flower to flower, and extracting fweets with their little bills. The fmaileft humming-bird is about the fize of a hazel-nut. The feathers on its wings and tail are black j but thofe on its body, and under its wings, are of a greeniih brown, with a fine red caft or glofs, which no filk or velvet can imitate. It has a fmall creft on its head, green at the bottom, and as it were gilded at the top ; and which fparkles in the fun like a little ftar in the middle of its fore- head. The bill is black, ftraight, fleecier, and of the length of a fmall pin. It is inconceivable how much thefe birds add to the high finifhing and beauty of a rich luxurious weftern iandfcape. As foon as the fun is rifen, the humming-birds, of different kinds, are feen fluttering about the flowers, without ever lighting upon them. Their wings are in fuch rapid motion, that it is impoffible to difcern their colours, except by their glittering. They are never ftil), but continually in motion, vifiting flower after flower, and extracting its honey as if with a kifs. For this purpofe they are furnifhed with a forky tongue, that enters the cup of the flower, and* extracts its ne&ared tribute. Upon this alone they fubfift. The rapid motion of their wings occaflons a hum- ming found, from whence they have their name; for whatever divides the air fwiftly, muft produce a murmur. The nefts of thefe birds are alfo very curious. They are fufpended in the air, at the point of the twigs of an orange, a pomegranate, or a citron tree-, fometimes even in houfes, if a fmall and con- Chap. -.. Defcriptive Pieces, 55 venient twig is found for the purpoie. The female is the architect, vvhile the male goes in queft of materials; fuch as cotton, fine mofs, and the fibres of vegetables. Of thefe materials a neft is com- pofed, about the fize of a hen's egg cut in two ; it is admirably contrived, and warmly lined with cotton. There are never more than two eggs found in the neft; thefe are about the fize of fmall peas, and as white as fnow, with here and there a yellow fpeck. The male and the female fit upon the neft by turns; but the female takes to herfelf the greateft (hare. She feldom quits the neft, except a few minutes in the morning and evening, when the dew is upon the flowers, and their honey in perfection. During this fhort interval, the male takes her place. The time of incubation continues twelve days; at the end of which the young ones appear, much about the fize of a blue-bottle fly. They arc at firft bare; by degrees they are covered with down; and, at laft, feathers fucceed, but lefs beautiful at firft than thofe of the old ones. Father Labat, in his account of the miifion to America, fays, " that his companion found the neft of a humming-bird, in a fhcd near the dwelling-houfe; and took it in, at a time when the young ones were about fifteen or twenty days old. He placed them in a cage at his chamber window, to be amufed by their fportive flutterings: but he was much furprifed to fee the old ones, which came and fed their brood regularly every hour in the day. By this means they themfelves grew fo tame, that they feldom quitted the chamber ; and, lout any conftraint, came to live with their 56 Introduction^ &c. Fart \ young ones. All four frequently perched upon their matter's hand, chirping as if they had been at liberty abroad. He fed them with a very fine clear pafte, made of wine, bifcuit, and fugar. They thruft their tongues into this pafte, till they were fatisfied, and then fluttered and chirped about the room. I never beheld any thing more agree- able," continues he, " than this lovely little family, which had poiTeffion of my companion's chamber, and flew in and out juft as they thought proper \ but were ever attentive to the voice of their matter, when he called them. In this manner they lived with him above fix months : but, at a time when he expected to fee a new colony formed, he unfortunately forgot to tie up their cage to th ceiling at night, to preferve them from the rats, and he found in the morning, to his great mortification,' that they were all devoured." GOLDSMITH. SECTION I IK c ile horfe. OF all quadrupeds, the horfe appears to be the moft beautiful. His fine fize, the gloffy fmooth- nefs of his fkin, the graceful eafe of his motions, and the exact fymmetry of his fhape, entitle him to this diftincYion. To have an idea of this noble animal in his native fimplicity, we are not to look for him in the paftures, or the ftables, to which he has been configned by man \ but in thofe wild and exten- Chap. 4. Defcriptive P 57 live plains where he was originally produced, where he ranges without control, and riots in all the variety of luxurious nature. In this ftate of happy independence, he difdains the afliftance of man, which tends only to his fervitude. In thofe boundlefs trafts, whether of Africa, or New Spain, re he runs at liberty, he feems no way incom- moded with the inconveniences to which he is iubjcct in Europe. The continual verdure of the fields fupplies his wants; and the climate that never knows a winter fuits his conftitution, which naturally feems adapted to heat. In thole countries, the horfes are often feen feeding in droves of five or fix hundred. As they do not carry on war againil any other race of animals, they are fatisfied to remain entirely upon the defenfive. They have always one among their number that ftands as centinel, to give notice of any approaching danger ; and this office they take by turns. If a man approaches them \vhile they are feeding by day, their centinel walks up boldly towards him, as if to examine his ftrength, or to intimidate him from proceeding ; but, as the man approaches within piftol fliot, the centinel then thinks it high time to alarm his fellows. This he does by a loud kind of fnort- ing; upon which they all take the fignal, and fly off with the fpeed of the wind ; their faithful cen- tinel bringing up the rear. But of all countries in the world, where the horfe runs wild, Arabia produces the moft beau- tiful breed, the moft generous, fwift, and per- ring. They are found, though not in great 58 Introduction , &5V. Part i. numbers, in the deferts of that country; and the natives ufe every ftratagem to take them. The ufual manner in which the Arabians try the fwiftnefs of thefe animals, is by hunting the oftrich. The horfe is the only animal whofe fpeed is comparable to that of this creature, which is found in the fandy plains, that abound in thofe countries. The inftant the oftrich perceives itfelf aimed at, it makes to the mountains, while the horfcman purfues with all the fwiftnefs poffible, and endeavours to cut off its retreat. The chafe then continues along the plain, while the oftrich makes ufe of both legs and wings to affift its motion. A horfe of the fir ft fpeed is able to outrun it: fo that the poor animal is then obliged to have recourfe to art to elude the hunter, by frequently turning. At length, finding all efcape hopelefs, it hides its head wherever it can, and tamely furFers itfelf to be taken. If the horfe, in a trial of this kind, (hows great fpeed, and is not readily tired, his character is fixed, and he is held in high eftimation. The horfes of the Arabians form the principal riches of many of their tribes, who ufe them both in the chafe, and in their expeditions for plunder. They never carry heavy burdens, and are feldom employed on long journeys. They are fo tractable and familiar, that they will run from the fields to the call of their matters. The Arab, his wife, and children, often lie in the fame tent with the mare and foal; which, inftead of injuring them, fuffer the children to reft on their bodies and necks, and feem afraid even to move left they fhould hurt Chap. 4. Defiriptiw Pieces. 59 them. They never beat or correct their horfes, but treat them with kindnefs, and even affection. The following anecdote of the companion and attachment fliovvn by a poor Arabian to one of thefe animals, will be interefting to every reader. The whole property of this Arab confided of a very fine beautiful mare. This animal the French conful at SaYd offered to purchafe, with an inten- tion to fend her to the king, Louis the Fourteenth. The Arab, prefled by want, hefitated a long time, but at length confented, on condition of receiving a very confiderable fum of money, which he named. The conful wrote to France for per- miflion to clofe the bargain , and having obtained it, fent the information to the Arab. The man, fo poor as to poflefs only a few rags to cover his bod; ,1 with his magnificent courfer. He difmounted, but appeared to be greatly agitated by contending emotions. Looking rlrft at the gold, and then at his marc, he ,\ deep figh, and exclaimed ; " To whom is it, I am going to fur- render thee ? To Europeans ! who will tie thee clofe ; who will beat thee ; who will render thee miferable ! Return with me, my beauty, my jewel, and rejoice the hearts of my children !" As he pronounced the laft words, he fprung upon her < ; and, in a few moments, vns out of fight. 6'o Introduction^ &c. Part I. SECTION IV. The Ouran-Qutang. THE Ape called the Ouran-Outang, approaches in external appearance nearer to the human form, than any other brute; and from this circumftance, it has fometimes obtained the appellation of " Man of the Woods/' This animal is of different fizes, from three to feven feet. In general, its flature is lefs than that of a man; but its ftrength and agility are much greater. Travellers who have feen various kinds of thefe animals, in their native folitudes, give furprifing relations of their force, their fwiftnefs, their addrefs, and their ferocity. They are found in many parts of Africa, in the Eaft-Indies, in Madagafcar, and in Borneo. In the laft of thefe places, the people of quality courfe them as we do the ftag; and this fort of hunting is one of the favourite amufements of the king himfelf. The fkin of the Ouran-Outang is hairy, his eyes are funk in his head, his counte- nance is ftern, and all his lineaments, though re- fembling thofe of man, are harfli, and blackened by the fun. He fleeps under trees, and builds a hut to protect himfelf againft the fun and the rains. When the negroes have left a fire in the woods, he comes near, and warms himfelf by the blaze. He has not, however, fenfe and (kill fuf- ficient to keep the flame alive by feeding it with fuel. Thefe animals often go together in compa- nies; and if they happen to meet one of the human Chap. 4. Defer iptive Pieces. 6 1 fpecies, remote from fuccour, they felclom flioxv him favour- Sometimes, however, they fpare thofe who fall into their hands. A negro boy was carried off by one of them, and lived with them upwards of a year. On his efcape and return home, he defcribed many of them as being larger than men; and he faid that they never attempted to injure him. They frequently attack the ele- phant: they beat him with clubs, and oblige him to leave that part of the foreft which they claim as their own. When one of thefe animals dies, the reft cover the body with leaves and branches. The manners of the Ouran-Outang, when in confinement, are gentle, and, for the moft part, harmlefs, perfectly devoid of that difgufting fero- city fo confpicuous in fome of the larger baboons and monkeys. It is mild and docile, and may be taught to perform, with dexterity, a variety of entertaining actions. Vofmaer's account of one of thefe animals, which was brought into Holland in the year 1776, and lodged in the menagerie of the prince of Orange, is fo exceedingly curious, that we fhall prefent the reader with an extract from it. " This animal fhowed no fymptoms of fiercc- nefs and malignity. It was fond of being in com- pany, and appeared to be very fenfiblc of the kindnefs of thofe who had the care of it. Often, when they retired, it would throw itfelf on the ground, as if in defpair, uttering lamentable cries, and tearing in pieces the, linen within its reach. keeper having been accuftomed to fit near it on the ground, it frequently took the hay of G 6 z Introduction^ &c. Part j . bed, and laid it by its fide, and feemed by all its actions to invite him to be feated nearer. Its ufual manner of walking was on all fours, but it could alfo walk on its two hind-feet only. It eat almoft every thing that was given to it ; but us chief food was bread, roots, and all forts of fruit, efpecially ftrawberries. When prefented with ftrawberries on a plate, it was extremely pleafant to fee the animal take them up, one by one, with a fork, and put them into its mouth, holding at the fame time the plate in the other hand. Its common drink was water; but it alfo very willingly drank all forts of wine, and particularly Malaga. After drinking, it wiped its lips ; and after eating, if prefented with a toothpick, it would ufe it in a proper manner. On fhipboard, it ran freely about the veffel, played with the failors, and went, like them, into the kitchen for its mefs. At the ap- proach of night, it lay down to fleep, and pre- pared its bed, by fliaking well the hay on which it flept, and putting it in proper order. It would then carefully draw up the coverlet. This animal lived only feven months after it had been brought into Holland." The Ouran-Outang, defcribed by Buffbn, ex- hibited a (till greater degree of fagacity. It walked upon two legs, even when it carried bur- thens. Its air was melancholy, and its deportment grave. Unlike the baboon and the monkey, whofe motions are violent and appetites capricious, whofe fondnefs for mifchief is remarkable, and whofe obedience proceeds only from fear, this animal was flow in its motions, and a look was fufficient 4- Defcriptive Pieces. 63 to keep it in awe. I have fcen it, fays BufFon, give its hand to {how the company to the door 5 I have feen it lit at table, unfold its napkin, wipe its lips, make ufe of the fpoon and the fork to carry victuals to its mouth ; pour out its drink into a glafs, and touch glafles when invited ; take a cup and fuicer, lay them on the table, put in fugar, pour out il cave it to cool, and then drink it. All this it would do without any other Cation than the figns or comannds of its " er, and often of its own accord. It was gen- tle and inoftenlwe : it even approached Grangers ; and came rather to receive carefTes s particularly fond of con, body was ready to give it; but as it had a dtiiuxion upon the breaft, fo much ir contributed to increafe the diforder, and to It continued at Paris but one lummer, and died in London. jre told \ .1, that the Ouran-Outangs ra Lcona ; where they are ftrong ;ncd, and fo induurious, that, when :)cJ iiiul f.'.!, they work like fervants ;. ound any fubftances .1 that they are frequently fent to in invall pitchers, from the rivers. i he pitchers, they carry them on their door of the dwelling; but if they are not fcon taken oil*, the animals fufler them to fall ;he ground. \Vhtn they perceive the pitcher oe overturned and broken, they utter loud ;-ans of this animal bear fo near t>4 Introduction , &c. Part i, a refemblance to thofe of men, that we are fur- prifed to find them productive of fo few advan- tages. The tongue, and all the organs of the voice, are fimilar, and yet the animal is dumb ; the brain is formed in the fame manner as that of man, and yet the creature wants reafon: an evi- - dent' proof, -as BufFon finely obferve% that no arrangement of matter will give mind; and that the body, how nicely foever formed, is formed to very limited ends, when there is not infilled a foul to direct its operations. SECTION v. The four feafons* WHO is this beautiful virgin that approaches, clothed in a robe of light green ? She has a gar- land of flowers on her head, and flowers fpring up wherever fhe fets her foot. The fnow which covered the fields, and the ice which was in the rivers , melt away when fhe breathes upon them. The young lambs frifk about her, and the birds warble in their little throats to welcome her com- ing , and when they fee her, they begin to choofe their mates, and to build their neils. Youths and maidens, have you feen this beautiful virgin? If you have, tell me who is fhe, and what is her name. WHO is this that comes from the fouth, thinly clad in a light tranfparent garment ? Her breath is hot and fultry \ flie fecks the refreshment of the ','iptive P 6Y cool fhade; ilie feeks the clear ftreams, the crys- tal brooks, to bathe her languid limbs. The brooks and rivulets ily from her, and are dried up at her roach. She cools her parched lips with berries, and the grateful acid of fruits; the feedy melon, the iharp apple, and the red pulp of the juicy TV. which are poured out plentifully around The tanned haymakers welcome her coming; and the . who clips the fleeces of his flock with his founding (hears. When flie comes, let me lie under the thick fhade of a fpreading beech tree; let me walk with her in the early morning, when the dew is yet upon the grafs ; let > j|kher in the foft twilight, when 'shis fold, an ;r of evening Who ib ihe th. u the fouth? Youths luis, tell me if you know, who Is flic, and what is her name. Wno is he that comes with fobtr pace, flealing upon us una are red with the blood of the ul his temples are bound with a fheaf of ripj wheat. His hair is thin and begins to fall, and the auburn is mixed with mournful s the brown nuts from the tree. winds tlu: horn, and calls the hunters to their fports. The gun fi The trembling par- tridge and the beautiful pheafant flutter, bleeding lir, and fall dead at the fportfman's feet, hat is crowned with the wh-tat-fheaf ? i'jns, tell me, if you know, who I), 'it is his name. G 2 66 Introduction, 5sV. Part i. WHO is he that comes from the north, clothed in furs and warm wool ? He wraps his cloak clofe about him. His head is bald; his beard is made of (harp icicles. He loves the blazing fire, high piled upon the hearth. He binds fkates to his feet, and fkims over the frozen lakes. His breath is piercing and cold, and no little flower dares to peep above the furface of the ground, when he is by. Whatever he touches turns to ice. If he were to ftrike you with his cold hand, you would be quite ftiff and dead, like a piece of marble. Youths and maidens, do you fee him ? He is coming faft upon us, and foon he will be here. Tell me, if you know, who is he^ and what is his name. BARBAULD. SECTION VI. Divine Providence. THE glorious fun is fet in the weft; the night- dews fall; and the air which was fultry, becomes cool. The flowers fold up their coloured leaves ; they fold themfelves up, and hang their heads on the {lender ftalk. The chickens are gathered under the wing of the hen, and are at reft: the hen herfelf is at reft alfo. The little birds have ceafed their warbling ; they are afleep on the boughs, each one with his head behind his wing. There is no murmur of bees around the hive, or amongft the honeyed woodbines; they have done their work, and they lie clofe in their waxen cells. The fheep rejl upon their foft Chap. 4. Deferiptive Pieces. 67 fleeces, and their loud bleating is no more heard nmongft the hills. There is no found of a number of voices, or of children at play, or the trampling of bufy feet, and of people hurrying to and fro. The finith's hammer is not heard upon the anvil 5 nor the harfh faw of the carpenter AH men arc ftretched on their quiet beds j and the child fleeps upon the breaft of its mother. Darknefs is fpread over the ikies, and darknefs is upon the ground : every eye is fhut, and every hand is ftill. Who takes care of all people when they are funk in fleep-, when they cannot defend them- js, nor fee if danger approaches ? There is an eye that never fleeps , there is an eye that fees in dark night, as well as the bright fun-fhine. When there is no light of the fun, nor of the moon , when there is no lamp in the houfe, nor little ftar twinkling through the thick clouds ; jr where, in dl places, and watches continually over all the families of the earth. The eye that fleeps not, is God's ; his hand is always ftretched out over us. He made leep to refrefh us when we are weary : he made night, that we might fleep in quiet. As the mother moves about the houfe with her finger on her lips, and ftills every little noife, that her infant be not dif- turbed-, as (he draws the curtains around its bed, and fhuts out the light from its tender eyes ; fo God draws the curtains of darknefs around us ; fo he makes all things to be hufhed and ftill, that his family may fleep in peace. ourers fpent with toil, and young children, ry little humming infeft, fleep quietly, for 6& Introduction ) &c. Part I. God watches over you. You may fleep, for he never fleeps: you may clofe your eyes in fafety, for his eye is always open to protect you. When the darknefs is paffed away, and the beams of the morning fun ftrike through your eye-lids, begin the day with praifing God, who has taken care of you through the night. Flow- ers, when you open again, fpread your leaves, and fmell fweet to his praife ! Birds, when you awake, warble your thanks amongft the green boughs ! fing to him before you fing to your mates! Let his praife be in our hearts, when we lie down ; let his praife be on our lips, when we awake. BARBAULD. SECTION VII. Health. WHO is (he that with graceful fteps, and with a lively air, trips over yonder plain ? The role blufhes on her cheeks \ the Aveetnefs of the morning breathes from her lips ; joy, tem- pered with innocence and modefty, fparkles in her eyes-, and the cheerfulnefs of her heart appears in all her movements. Ker name, is Health : (he is the daughter of Exercife and Temperance. Their ions inhabit the mountains and the plain. They are brave, active, and lively, and partake of all the beauties and virtues of their fifter. Vigour ftrings their nerves, ftrength dwells in their bones, and labour is their delight all the day long. The employments pf their father excite their appetites ; Defcnptive Pieces. 69 and the repafts of their mother refrefli them. To combat the paflions, is their delight , to conquer evil habits, their glory. Their pleafures are mo- derate, and therefore they endure; their repofe is ihort, but found and undifturbed. Their blood is pure ; their minds are ferene ; and the phyiichn not find the way to their habitations. ECONOMY OF HUM. LIFE. SECTION VIII. Charity. HAPPY is the man who has fown in his bread- the feeds of charity and love! From the fountain of his heart rife rivers of goodnefs ; r.nd the dreams overflow for the benefit of mankind. He afllfts the poor in their trouble \ he rejoices in promo- ting the of all men. He docs not harfhly cenfure his neighbour ; he believes not the t, les of envy and malevolence, nor repeats their ilanders. He forgives the injuries of men ; he wipes them from his remembrance : revenge and malice have no place in his heart. For evil he returns not : he hates not even his enemies ; but requites their injuflice with friendly admonition. The griefs and anxieties of men excite his companion : he endeavours to alleviate the weight of their mis- fortunes ; and the pleafure of fuccefs rewards his labour. He calms the fury, he heals the quarrels of angry men ; and prevents the mifchiefs of ftrife ruofity. He promotes in his neighbour-* _ &c. Part i* hood peace and good will 5 and his name is re* peated with praife and benedictions. ECONOMY OF HUM. LIFE*. SECTION IX. Gratitude. As the branches of a tree return their fap to the .root, from whence it arofe; as a river pours its flreams to the fea, whence its' fpring, was fupplied - 9 fo the heart of a grateful man delights in return- ing a benefit received. He acknowledges his ob- ligation with cheerfulnefs ; he looks on his bene- fadtor with love and efteem. And if to return a favour be not in his power, he cherifhes the re*- membrance of it through life. The hand of the generous man is like the clouds of heaven, which drop upon the earth, fruits, herb- age, and flowers: but the heart of the ungrateful is like a clefert of fand, which fwallows with greedinefs the fhowers that fall, buries them in its bofom, and produces nothing. The grateful mind envies not its benefactor, nor ftrives to conceal the benefit he has conferred. Though to oblige is better than to be obliged; though the act of generofity commands admira- tion; yet the humility of gratitude touches the heart, and is amiable in the fight both of God and man. ECONOMY OF HUM, LIFE. Qcfiriptive Pieces*- -71^ SECTION X. Mortality, 'CHILD of mortality, whence comeft thou ? why is thy countenance fad, and why are thy eyes red with weeping ? I have fcen the rofe in its beauty; it fpread its leaves to the morning fun. 1 re- turned: it was dying upon its ftalk: the grace of the form of it was gone; its loveiinefs was vanished away; its leaves were fcp.ttered on the ground, and no one gathered them again. A (later n the plain; its branches were covered with verdure; its boughs fpread wide, and made a goo, -vr; the trunk was like a ftrong pillar; the roots were like crooked fangs. I returned; the verdure was nipt by the eaft wind; the branch^ ry by the axe ; the worm had made its way into the trunk, and the heart thereof was decayed; it mouldered away, and fell to the ground. I have feen the infects fporting in the funfhine, and darting along the ftreams ; their wings glit- tered with gold and purple; their bodies (hone like the green emerald: they were more numerous than I could count; their motions were quicker than my eye could glance. I returned : they were brufhed into the pool ; they were perifliing with the evening breeze ; the Avallow had devoured them ; the pike had feized them : there were none found of fo great a multitude. I have fcen man in the pride of his flrength ; &c. 'Pert i. his cheeks glowed with beauty ; his limbs were full of activity , he leaped \ he walked j he ran-, he re- joiced in that he was more excellent than thofe. I returned : he lay ftiff and cold on the bare ground ; his feet could no longer move, nor his hands ftretca themfelves out ; his life was departed from him ; and the breath out of his noftrils. Therefore do I weep becaufe DEATH is in the world *, the fpoiler is among the works of God : all that is made, muft be deftroyed-, all that is born, muft die-, let me alone, for I will weep yet longer. BARBAULD. SECTION XI. H Immortality, I HAVE feen the flower withering on the ftalk, and its bright leaves fpread^on the ground. I looked again : it fprung forth afrefh ; its ftem was crowned with new buds, and its fweetnefs filled the air. I have feen the fun fet in the weft, and the fhades of night {hut in the wide horizon: there was no colour, nor (hape, nor beauty, nor mufic : gloom and darknefs brooded around. I looked ; the fun broke forth again from the eaft, and gilded the mountain tops ; the lark rofe to meet him from her low neft, and the {hades of darknefs fled away. I have feen the infeft, being come to its full fize, languish, and refufe to eat : it fpun itfelf a tomb, and was flirouded in the filken cone ; it Defer iptive Pieces. 73 lay without feet, or fliape, or power to move. I looked again : it had burft its tomb; it was full of life, and failed on coloured wings through the foft i'i its new being. \\\ it be with tbee, O man! and fo fliall thy life be renewed. Beauty fliall fpring up out of afhes, and life out of the duft. A little while fhalt thoa lie in the ground, as the feed lies in the bofom of the earth : but thou (halt be raifcd again; and thou (halt never die any more. Who is he that conies, to burft open the prifon doors of the tomb; to bid the dead awake; and to gather his redeemed from the four wings of hea- ven ? II l.s on a fiery cloud; the found of a trumpet goes before him ; thoufands of angels are on his right hand. It is Jefus, the Son of God; the faviour of men ; the friend of the good, comes in the glory of his Father ; he has re- ed power from on high. Mourn not, therefore, child of immortality ! for tlte fpoiler, the cruel fpoiler, that laid \vafte the f God, is fubdued. Jefus has conquered death : child of immortality ! mourn no lonr BAR BAIT I. D. SECTION XII. Heaven. rofe is fweet, but it is furrounded \vith : the lily of the; valley is fragrant, but it up amongft the brambles. The fprinr , but it is foon paft: the fu miner i.; bright, II 7 4 Introduction ) &t,\ Part j. bat the winter deftroys its beauty. The rainbow is very glorious, but it foon vanifhes away: life is good, but it is quickly fwallowed up in death. There is a land, where the rofes are without thorns; where the flowers are not mixed with, brambles. In that land, there is eternal fpring, and light without any cloud. The tree of life grows in the mid ft thereof; rivers of pleafure are there, and flowers that never fade. Myriads of happy fpirits are there, and furround the throne of God with a perpetual hymn. The angels with their golden harps fing praifes continually, and the cherubim fly on wings of fire! This country is heaven: it is the country of thofe that are good: and nothing that is wicked muft inhabit there. The toad muft not fpit its venom amongft turtle- doves: nor the poifonous henbane grow amongft fweet flowers. Neither muft any one that does ill, enter into that good land. This earth is pleafant, for it is God's earth, and it is filled with many delightful things. But .that country is far better : there we {hall not grieve any more, nor be fick any more, nor do wrong any more; there the cold or winter fhali not wither us, nor the heats of fummer fcorch us. In that country there are no wars nor quarrels, but all dearly love one another. When our parents and friends die, and are laid in the cold ground, we fee them here no niore ; but there we (hall embrace them again, and live \vitli them, and be feparated no more. There we ihall meet all good men, whom we read of in holy books. There we {hall fee Abraham, thr. Ubap. 4. Defcriptive Pieces. 75 called of God, the father of the faithful; and Mofes, after his long wanderings in the Arabian defert; and Elijah, the prophet of God; and Daniel, who efcaped the lions' den; and there the fon of JeiTe, the (liepherd king, the fweet finger of Ifrael. They loved God on earth; they prailed him on earth; but in that country they will praife him better, and love him more. There we (hall fee Jefus, who is gone before us to that happy place; and there we fhall behold the glory of the high God. We cannot fee him here, but we will love him here. We muft be now on earth, but we will often think on heaven. That happy land is our home; we are to be here but for a little while, and there for ever, even for eternal ages. BARBAULB. CHAPTER V. DIALOGUES. SECTION I. CANUTE AND HIS COURTIERS. Flattery reproved. CANUTE. IS it true, my friends, as you have often told me that I am the greateft of monarchs? OFF A. It is true, my liege j you are the moft powerful of all kings. OSWALD. We are all your flaves; we kifs the duft of your feet. OFF A. Not only we, but even the elements, are your ilaves. The land obeys you from fliore to fhore; and the fea obeys you. CANUTE. Does the fea, with its loud boifterous waves, obey me ? Will that terrible element be ftill at my bidding ? Chap. 5. Dialogues. 77 O F F A. Yes, the fea is yours ; it was made to bear your {hips upon its bofom, and to pour the treasures of the world at your royal feet. It is boifterous to your enemies, but it knows you to be its fovereign. CAN T UTE. Is not the tide coming up? \V A L D . Yes, my liege; you may perceive the fwell already. NUTE. Bring me a chair then; iet it here upon the fands. o i Where the tide is coming up, my gracious lord? \ U T E . Yes, fet it juft here. \VAI.D. (AJi.de.) I wonder what he is going to do ! (Afidc.) Surely he is not Ib filly as to believe us! O mighty Ocean! thou art my fubjecl:; my courtiers tell me fo; and it is thy duty to obey " me. Thus, then, I ftretch my fceptrc over thee, nd thee to retire. Rollback thy fwell* im nor let them prefume to v;ct the of i roval mailer. H 2 78 Introduction, &?r. Part I. OSWALD. (Afide.) I believe the fea will pay very little regard to his royal commands. OFF A. See how faft the tide rifes ! OSWALD. The next wave will come up to the chair. It is folly to flay ; we fhall be covered with fait water. CAN UTE. Well, does the fea obey my commands ? If it oe my fubjeft, it is a very rebellious fubjecl. See now it fwells, and dafhes the angry foam, and fait fpray over my facred perfon! Vile fyeo- phants! did you think I was the dupe of your bafe lies ? that I believed your abject flatteries ? Know, there is but one Being whom the fea will obey. He is Sovereign of heaven and earth, King of kings, and. Lord of lords. It is only he who can fay to the ocean, u Thus far fhalt thou go, but no farther, and here fhall thy proud waves be Aayed." A king is but a man; and a man is but a worm. Shall a worm aiTume the power of the great God, and think the elements will obey him? May kings learn to be humble from my example, vind courtiers learn truth from your difgrace! DR. A i K I M Chap . < 5 . Dialogues* 7 $ SECTION H. THE TWO ROBBERS. We often condemn in others what we practise onrfehe^ ALEXANDER the Gt'(at !n Ins tent. A man with a fierce countenance^ chained and fettered^ brought before him. A L E X A N D ; WHAT, art thou the Thracian robber, of whofe exploits I have heard fo much? ROBBER. I am a Thracian, and a foldier. ALEXANDER. A Soldier ! a thief, a plunderer, an aflaffin ! the peft of the country! I could honour thy cour- age, but I muft deteft and punifli thy crimes. ROBBER. What have I done, of which you can complain ? A I. i KR. r thou not fet at defiance my authority; violated the public peace, and pafled thy life in injuring the perfons and properties of thy fellow fubjecls ? ROBBER. xander ! I am your captive I muft hear what you pleafe to fay, and endure what you So Introduction > &c. Part I. pleafe to inflict. But my foul is unconquered ; and if I reply at all to your reproaches, I will reply like a free man. ALEXAN DER. Speak freely. Far be it from me to take the advantage of my power, to lilence thofe with whom I deign to converfe ! ROBBER. I muft then anfwer your ( queftion by another. How have you paiTed your life? ALEXANDER. Like a hero. Aik Fame, and fhe will tell you. Among the brave, I have been the braveft : among fovereigns, the nobleft: among conquerors, the mightieft. ROBBER. And does not Fame fpeak of me, too? Was there ever a bolder captain of a more valiant band? Was there ever But I fcorn to boaft. You your- felf know that I have not been eafily fubdued. ALEXAN DER. Still, what are you but a robber a bafe, dif- honed robber. ROBBER. And what is a conqueror ? Have not you, too, gone about the earth like an evil genius, blafting .the fair fruits of peace and induftry; plundering, ravaging, killing, without law, without jnftice, merely to gratify an kifatiable luft for dominion? All that I have done to a fingle diftrict with a hun- C&ap. 5. Dialogues. 8* dred followers, you have done to whole Nations i a hundred thoufand. If I have ft ripped in- dividuals, you have ruined kings and princes. If I have burned a few hamlets, you have defolated the tnoft flourifhing kingdoms and cities of the earth. What is then the difference, but that as you were born a king, and I a private man, you have been able to become a mightier robber than I ? A L K X A N D E R . But if I have taken like a king, I have g like a king. If I have fub verted empires, I have founded greater. I have cheriflied arts, commerce, and philofophy. ROBBER. I, too, have freely given to the poor, what I took from the rich. I have eftabliflied order and difcipline among the moft ferocious of mankind ; and have ftretched out my protecting arm over the opprefTed. I know, indeed, little of the philofophy you talk of j but I believe neither you nor I ihall ever atone to the world, for the mifchiefs we have done it. ALEX A N D E R . Leave me Take off his chains, and ufe him well. Are we then fo much alike? Alexander to a robber ? Let me reflect. DR. A1IUN, Introduction ) &c. Part I. SECTION III. A FAMILY CONVERSATION. On the Jlavery of the negroes. AUGUSTA. My dear papa, you once informed me, that in the Weft-Indies, all laborious operations were per- formed by negro flaves. Are thofe iflands in- habited by negroes ? I thought thefe people were natives of Africa. FATHER. You are right, my dear; they are, indeed, natives of Africa $ but they have been fnatched, by the hand of violence, from their country, friends, and connexions. I am afhamed to confefs, that many {hips are annually fent from different parts of Eng- land, to the coaft of Guinea, to procure Haves from that unhappy country, foil the ufe of our Weft- India iflands, where they are fold to the planters of fugar-plantations *, and afterwards employed in the hardeft and moft fervile occupations ; and pafs the reft of their lives in flavery and wretchednefs. SOPHIA. How much my heart feels for them ! How ago- nizing muft it be, to be feparated from one's near relations ; parents perhaps divided from their chil- dren for ever ; hufbands from their wives; brothers and lifters obliged to bid each other a fin^l fare- Chap. 2. Dialogues* 83 well ! But why do the kings of the African flates fuffer their fubjecb to be fo cruelly treated ? MOTHER. Many caufes have operated to induce the African princes to become affiftants in this infamous traflic : and inftead of being the defenders of their harm- lefs people, they have frequently betrayed them to their moft cruel enemies. The Europeans have corrupted thefc ignorant rulers, by prefents of rum, and other fpirituous liquors, of which they arc im- moderately fond. They have fomented j^aloufies, and excited wars, am on.: , merely for the fake of obtaining the prifouers of war for (laves. ^uently t no ceremony, but go on fhore in the night, fet fire to a neighbouring village, and e upon all the unhnpp' , who run out to efcape the :t hardened hearts do the is of thofe {hips pofTcfs ! They muft \trernely cruel, before they would in: em- ployment. There i ;, by ' habits of fuch a life, ar F to the e of pity : we mu ft, however, compaflionate fituation of thofe, whole parents have early m to tliis profeffion, before they were of to choofe a different employment. Jjiit to :he fubjeft of roes. \Vhat I i. 1 jnly the beginning of their fern 8*j. Introduction , &c. Parj i. When they are put on board the fhips, they arc crowded together in the hold, where many of them die for want of air and room. There have been frequent inftances of their throwing themfelves into the fea, when they could find an opportunity, and feeking in death a refuge from their calamity. As foon as they arrive in the Weft-Indies, they are carried to a public market, where they are fold to the beft bidder, like horfes at our fairs. Their future lot depends much upon the difpofition of the matter, into whofe hands they happen to fall; for, among the overfeers of fu gar-plantations', there are fome men of feeling and humanity: but too generally the treatment of the poor negroes is very fevere. Accuftomed to an eafy, indolent life, in the luxurious and plentiful country of Africa, they find great hardfhip from the tranfition to a life of fevere labour, without any mixture of indulgence to foften it. Deprived of the hope of amending their condition, by any courfe of conduct they can purfue, they frequently abandon themfeives to de- fpair ; and die, in what is called the . feafoning, which is becoming inured by length of time to their fituation. They who have lefs fenflbility and ftronger confHtutions, furvive their complicated mifery but a few years: for it is generally acknow- ledged, that they feldom attain the full period of human life. AUGUSTA. Humanity flindders at your account ! But I have heard a gentleman, 'who had lived many years abroad, fay, that negroes were not much fuperior Dialogues. 85 to the brutes ; and that they were fo ftupid and ftubborn, that nothing but ftripes and feverity could have any influence over them. FATHER. That gentleman was moil probably Interefted in mifleading thofe with whom he converfed. People, who reafon in that manner, do not con- fider the difadvantages which the poor negroes fuffer, from want of cultivation. Leading an ig- norant favage life in their own country, they cart have acquired no previous information : and when they fall into the hands of their cruel opp a life of laborious fervitude, which lean ely utlords them fufficient time for fleep, deprives them of every opportunity of improving their minds. There is no reafon to fuppofe that they differ from us in any thing but colour ; which diftinc'lion arifcs from the intenfe heat of their climate. There have been inflances of a few, whofe fituation has been fa- vourable to improvement, who have fiiown ttrong powers of mind. Thofe matters, woo neglect the religious and moral inftruftion of their flaves, add a heavy load of guilt to that already incurred,, by their (hare in this unjuft and inhuman tiv. CHARLES. My indignation rifes at this recital. Why does not the Britiih parliament exert its power, to avenge the wrongs of thefe oppreffed Africa What yp prevent an aft being patted to for Englifhmen from buying and felling flavcs ? I 86 Introduction > &c. Part I. FATHER. Many perfons of great talents and virtue, have made feveral fruitlefs attempts to obtain an act for the abolition of this trade. Men interefted in its continuance have hitherto fruftrated thefe generous defigns ; but we may rely upon the goodnefs of that Divine Providence, who cares for all creatures, that the day will come, when their rights will be confidered : and there is great reafon to hope, from the light already caft upon the fubjeft, that the riling generation will prefer juftice and mercy, to intereft and policy ; and will free themfelves from the odium we at prefent fuffer, of treating our fellow-creatures in a manner unworthy of them, and of ourfelves. MOTHER. Henry, repeat that beautiful apoftrophe to a .negro woman, which you learned the other day out of Barbauld's Hymns. HENRY. " Negro woman, who iitteft pining in captivity, and weepeft over thy fick child, though no one lees thee, God fees thee ; though no one pities thee, God pities thee. Raife thy voice, forlorn and abandoned one; call upon him from amidfl thy bonds, for afiuredly he will hear thee. CECILIA. I think no riches could tempt me to have any fnare in the ilave-trade. I could never enjoy peace of mind, whilft I thought I contributed to the woes of my fellow-creatures. Chap. 5. Dialogues.. 87 MOTHER. But, Cecilia, to put your companion to the proof ; are you willing to debar yourielf of the nu- merous indulgences you enjoy, from the fruit of their labour ? CECI L I A. I would forego any indulgence to alleviate their fufferings. :77v reft of the children together. We are all of the fame mind. MOTHER. 1 admire the fenfibility of your uncorrupted hearts, my dear children. It is the voice of nature and virtue. Liften to it on all occafions, and bring it home to your bofoms, and your daily prac- tice. The fame principle of benevolence, which excites your juft indignation at the oppreflion of the negroes, will lead you to be gentle towards your inferiors, kind and obliging to your equals, and in a particular manner condefcending and conflderate towards your ^TOcfticg ; requiring no more of them, than you would be willing to perform in their fituation ; inftrucVmg them when you have opportunity ; fympathizing in their afiiiclions, and :>ting their bcft in* rcfls to the utmoft of your P. \V AKEFIELD.- *8 Introduction, (3c. Part i. SECTION IV. Tke father redeemed from Jlavery by his fom A YOUNG man, named Robert, was fitting alone in his boatj in the harbour of Marfeilles. A itranger ftepped in, and took his feat near him, but quickly rofe again ; obferving, that, fince the matter was not prefent, he would take another boat. " This, fir, is mine," faid Robert: li would you fail without the harbour ?" " I meant only to move about in the bafin, and enjoy the cool- nefs of this fine evening. But I cannot believe you are a failor." " Nor am I : yet on fundays and holidays, I at the bargeman, with a view to make up a Aim." u What ! coveteus at your age ! your looks had almoft prepoiTefTed me in your favour. * a Alas ! fir, did you know my fituation, you would not 'blame me." " Well ; perhaps I am miflaken. Let us take our little cruife of pleafure ; and acquaint me with your hiftory." The ftranger having refumed'^Hls feat, the dia- logue, after a (liort paufe, proceeded thus. a l perceive, young man, you are fad. What grieves you thus ?" " My father, fir, groans in fetters, and I cannot ranfom him. He earned a livelihood by petty brokerage ; but, in an evil hour, em- barked for Smyrna, to Superintend in perfon the delivery of a cargo, in which he had a concern. The veffel was captured by a Barbary corfair ; and my father was conducted to Tetuan, where he is now a Have. They refufed to releafe him j . Dialogues. 89 for Icfs than two thoufand crowns, a fum which far exceeds our fcanty means. However, we do our beft. My mother and fitters work day and nieht. I ply liard at my dated occupation of a jJBpeyman jeweller; and, as you perceive, make :c I can of fundays and holidays. I had re- folved to put myielf in my father's fteadj but my mother, apprized of my defign, and dreading the double*privation of a hufband and an only fon, requeued the Levant captains to refufe me a paf- fage." u Pray, do you ever hear from your father? Under what name docs he pafs? or what is Jlfckm after *s addrcfs?" "His matter is over- he royal gardens at Fez; and my father's Robert at Tctuan, as at Marfeilles." " Robert, overfeer of the royal gardens?" " Yes, fir." " I am touched with your misfortunes j but venture to predicl their termination." Night drew on The ft ranger, upon landing, thruft into young Robert's hand a purfc containing eight double louis d'or, with ten crowns in filver, and inftantly difappeared Six weeks palled after this adventure ; and each- returning fun bore witnefs to the unremitting ex- ertions of the good family. As they fat one day at their unfavoury meal of bread and dried almonds, old Robert entered the apartment, in a garb little fuited to a fugitive prifonerj tenderly embraced his wife and children, and thanked them, with tears of gratitude, for the fifty louis they had caufed to be remitted to him on his i om. lan, for his i^ge, and a comfortable iring apparel. His aftoniflied rclati I 2 90 Introduftioii) s>V. Part I. eyed one another in filence. At length, the mo- ther, fufpedting that her fon had fecretly concerted the whole plan, recounted the various inflances of his zeal and affection. <; Six thoufand livr.es/ % continued fhe, "is the fum we wanted; and had already procured fomewhat more than tlie half, owing chiefly to his induftry. Some friends, no doubt, have affifted him upon an emergency like the prefent." A gloomy fuggeftion crofed the father's mind. Turning fucldenly to his fon, and eyeing him with >the fternnefs of diffraction, 4< Unfortunate boy," exclaimed he, " what have you done ? How can I be indebted to you^jHIiy freedom, and not regret it? How cou fFecl: my ranfom, without your mother's knowledge, ynlefs at the expenfe of virtue ? I tremble at the thought of filial affection having betrayed you into guilt. Tell the truth at once, whatever may be the confequence." u Calm your apprehenfions, my dc;areft father," cried the fon embracing him. if No, I am not unworthy of fuch a parent, though fortune has denied me the fatisfadiion of proving the full ftrength of my attachment. I am not your deliverer: but I know who is. Recollect^ mother, the unknown gentleman, who gave me the purfe. He was particular in his inquiries. Should I pafs my life in the purfuit, I muft en- deavour to meet with him, and invite him to con- template the fruits of his beneficence." He then related to his father all that pafied in the pleafure- boat, and removed every diftreffing fufpicion. Reftorecl to the bofom of his family, the father again partook of their joys, profpered in his ( . . Dialogues. 91 ings, and faw his children comfortably eftablifhed. Some time afterwards, on a Sunday morning, as the fon was walking on the quay, he difcovered tej - benefactor, clafped his knees, and entreated him as his guardian angel, as the preferver of a flmer and a family, to (hare the happinefs he had been the means of producing. The ftranger again difappeared in the crowd but, reader, this ftranger was Montefquieu. MUIRHEAD'S TRAVELS. SECTION V. TUTOR AND HIS PUPILS. Eyes and f;o eyes; or, the art of feeing. WELL, Robert, where have you been walking this afternoon ? (faid a Tutor to one of his pupils at the clofe of a holiday.) ROBERT. ieen to Broom-heath, and fo round by the windmill upon Camp-mount, and home through the meadows by the river fide. TUTOR. Well, that is a pleafant round. * ROBERT. I thought it very dull, fir-, I fcarcely met with a fmgle perfon. I would much rather haye gonf e turnpike road. c?2 introduction, &c. Part I. TUTOR. Why, if feeing men and horfes is your object, you would, indeed, be better entertained, on the high-road. But did you fee William ? ROB ERT. 1 We fet out together, but he lagged behind in the lane, fo I walked on and left him. TUTOR. That was a pity. He would have been com- pany for you. ROB ERT. Jfj^ O, he is fo tedious, always flopping to jflRat this thing and that ! I would rather walk alone, I dare fay he is not got home yet. TUTO&. Here he comes. Well, William, where have you been. WILLIAM. O, the pleafanteft walk ! I went all over Broom- heath, and fo up to the mill at the top of the hill, and then down among the green meadows by the ^fide of the river. TUTOR. Why, that is juft the round Robert has been taking, and he complains of its dulnefs, and pre- fers the high-road. WI LLI AM. I wonder at that. I am fure I hardly took a flep that did not delight me, and I have brought borne my handkerchief full of curioiitks. Dialogues. .93 TUTOR. Suppofe then, you give us an account of what amufed you fo much. I fancy it will be as new to Robert as to me. W I L L I A M . I will do it readily. The lane leading to the heath, you know, is clofc and fandy, fo I did not mind it much, but made the beft of my way. However, I fpied a curious thing enough in the hedge. It was an old crab-tree, out of which grew a great bunch of fomething green, quite dif- ferent from the tree itfelf. Here is a branch of it* rent fro \ TUTOR. Ah! this is miftietoe, a plant of great fame for the ufe made of it by the Druids cf old, in their religious rites and incantations. It bears a very flimy white berry, of which birdlime may be made, whence the Latin name Vifcus. It is one of thofe plants which do not grow in the ground by a root of their own, but fix themfelves upon other plants; whence they have been hu- moroufly ftyled parafttualy as being hangers-on, or dependents. It was the miftietoe of the oak that the Druids particularly honoured. \V I L L I A M . A little further on I law a green woodpecker fly to a tree, and run up the trunk like a cat. TUTOR. s to feek for in feels in the bark, on h they live. They bore holes with their ng bills for that purpofe, and do much damage e trees by it. ,94 Introduftisn, ?r. Part l. \vi LLI AM. What beautiful birds they are ! TUTOR. Yes; they have been called from their colour and fize the Englifh parrot. WILLIAM. When I got upon the open heath, how charm- ing it was! The air feemed fo frefh, and the profpedl on every fide fo free and unbounded! Then it was all covered with gay flowers, many of which I had never obferved before. There were at lead three kinds of heath, (I have got them in my handkerchief here,) and gorfe, and broom, and bell-flower, and many others of all colours, of which I will beg you prefently to tell me the names. TUTOR. That I will, readily. WILLIAM. I faw, too, feveral birds that were new to me. There was a pretty greyifh one, of the iize of a lark, that was hopping about fome great {tones; and when he- flew, he fhowed a great deal of white above his tail. T u T o R . That was a wheat-ear. They are reckoned very delicious birds to eat, and frequent the open downs in Suffex, and fome ether counties, in great numbers. WILLIAM. There was a flock of lapwings upon a m: Chap. 5. Dialogues. y$ part of the heath, that amufed me much. As I came near them, fome of them kept flying round and round juft over my head, and crying pewit fo diftinc*lly, one might almoft fancy they fpoke. I thought I fhould have caught one of them, for he flew as if one of his wings was broken, and often tumbled clofe to the ground; but as I came near, he always contrived to get away. TUTOR. Ha, ha! you wer.e finely taken in, then! This was all an artifice of the bird's to entice you away from its neft: for they build upon the bare ground, and their nefts would eaiily be obferved, did not they draw off* the attention of intruders, by their loud cries and counterfeit lament Ts. \VI I. L I A M. I wifli I had known that, for he led me a long .chafe, often over fhoes in water. However, it was the caufe of my falling in with an old man and a boy, who were cutting and piling up turf for fuel; and I had a good deal of talk with them, about the manner of preparing the turf, and the price it fells at. They gave me, too, a creature I never faw before a young viper, which they had juft killed, together with its dam. I have feen feveral common fnakes, but this is thicker in pro- portion, and of a darker colour than they are. TUTOR. True. Vipers frequent thofc turfy, boggy ; pretty much, and I have known feveral bitten by them. Part i. WILLIAM. They are very venomous, are they not? TUTOR. Enough fo to make their wounds painful and .dangerous, though they feldona prove fatal. WILLIAM. Well I then took my courfe up to the wind- mill on the mount. I climbed up the fteps of the mill in order to get a better view of the country round. What an extenfive profpecl! I counted fifteen church fleeples; and I faw feveral gentle- men's houfes peeping .out from the midfl of greeif woods and plantations; and I could trace the windings of the river all along the low grounds* till it was loft behind a ridge of hills. But I'll tell you what I mean to do, if yon will give me leave. TUTOR. What is that ? WILLIAM., I will go again, and take with me Carey's county map, by which I fhall probably be able to make out moft of the places. TUTOR. You (hall have it, and I will go with you, and take my pocket fpying-glafs. wi LLI AM. I fhall be very glad of that. Well a thought ftruck me, that as the hill is called Gamp-mount^ there might probably be ibme remains of ditches Dialogues. 97 and mounds, with which I have read that camps were iiiiTOundcd. And \ ve I difcover- ed lomething of that fort running round one fide of the mount. TUTOR. Very likely you might. I know antiquarie-- have defcribed fuch remains as cxifting tlv. which fome r uppofe to be Roman, others \Ve will examine them further when we go. \vi L LI AM. :n the hill 1 went ftraight down to the clows below, and walked on the fide of a brook that runs into the river. It was all b with reeds, and flags, and tall flowering plants, quite different from thofe I had iecn on the heath. As I was getting down the bank to reach one of them, I heard fom 'tinge into the water near It was ii lar -rat, and I faw it fwim c to the other fide, and go into its hole. T! re a great many large dragon flies all about, the im. I caught one of the fineft, and have got , here in a leaf. But how I longed to cart it I faw hovering over the water, and t\ .' and then darting down into it! It are of the tnoft beautiful green and ith fomc orange colour. It was fome what i a thru: 1 ..ad a large ! jill, , OR. ;i what that bird was a kingil flier, .ited halcyon of the ancients., - 98 Introduction , &V. Part I. which fo many tales are told. It lives on fifh, which it catches in the manner you faw. It builds in holes in the banks; and is a ihy retired bird, never to be feen far from the {bream where it inhabits. WILLIAM. I in uft try to get another fight of him, for I never faw a bird that pleafed me fo much. Well, I followed this little brook till it entered the river, and then took the path that runs along the bank. On the oppofite fide I obferved feveral little birds running along the fliore, and making a piping noife. They were brown and white, and about as big as a fnipe. TUTOR. I fuppofe they were fand-pipers, one of the numerous family of birds that get their living by wading among the {hallows, and picking up worms and infects. . WILLIAM. There were a great many fwallows, too, fport- ing upon the furface of the water, that entertained me with their motions. Sometimes they daflied into the ft ream- ; fometimes they purfuecl one another fo quickly that the eye could fcarcely fol- low them. In one place, where a high fteep fund-bank rofe directly above the river, I obferved many of them go in and out of holes, with which the bank was bored full. TUTOR. Thofe were fand-martins, the finalleft of our . 5- Dialogues. 99 four fpecies of fwallows. They are of a moufe- colour above, and white beneath. They make their nefts, and bring up their young in thefe holes, which run a great depth, and by their fitua- tion are fecure from all plunderers. WILLIAM. A little further I faw a man in a boat, who \va .; catching eels in an odd way. He had a long pole with broad iron prongs at the end, juft like Neptune's trident, only there were five inftead of three. This he puflied ftraight down into the mud, in the deepeft parts of the river, and fetched up the eels fticking between the prongs. TUTOR. I have feen this method. It is called fpearing of eels. W I L L I at him, a heron came fly- over my head, with his large flagging wings, alighted at the next turn of the river, and I t foftly behind the bank to watch his motions, lie had waded into the water as far as his long would carry him, and was ftanding with his neck drawn in, looking intently on the ftream. Prefently he darted his long bill as quick lightning into th ;, and drew out a fifli, h he i\vall'j\\\d. I law him catch another in the fame manner. lie then took alarm at f noife I made, and flew away flowly to a c j Intro d:i El ion ^ &c. Parti, TUTOR. Probably his neft was there, for herons build upon the loftieft tree they can find, and fometimes in fociety together, like rooks. Formerly, when thefe birds were valued for the amufement of hawking, many gentlemen had their heronries, and a few are ilill remaining. WILLIAM. I think they are the largeft wild birds we have. TUTOR. They are of great length and fpread of wing, but their bodies are comparatively fmall. WILLIAM. I then turned homeward acrofs the meadows, where I flopped awhile to look at a large flock of fbrlings, which kept flying about at no great diftance. I could not tell at firft what to make of them ; for they rofe all together from the ground ;is thick as a fwarm of bees, and formed them- fdvcs into a kind of black cloud hovering over the field. After taking a fhort round they fettled Dgnin, and prefently rofe again in the fame man- ner. I dare fay there were hundreds of them. TUTOR. Perhaps fo; for in the fenny countries, their flocks are fo numerous, as to break down whole ;icrcs of reeds by fettling on them. This difpofi- " tion of ftarlings to fly in clofe fwarms, was re- inr.rked even by Homer, who compares the foe fiyino from one of his heroes, to a cloud of ftar- Ilngs retiring difmayed at the approach of the hawk. >. j. Dialogues. 101 W I L 1. 1 A M . After I had left the meadows, I croiTed the corn fields in the way to our houfe, and pafTed clofe by a deep marl pit. Looking into it, I faw in one of the fides a duller of what I took to be fhells-, and upon going down, 1 picked up a clod of marl, which was quite full of them; but how fea fhells could get there I cannot imagine. TUTOR. I do not wonder at your iurprifc, flnce many philofophers have been much perplexed to ac- count for the fame appearance, It is not uncom- mon to find great quantities of ilWs arid relics of marine animals, even in the Towels of high mountains very remote from the fea. \V I L I. I A M. I got to the high field next to our houfe juft as the fun was letting, and I flood looking at 'oil. What a glorious fight! The clouds were tinged with purple and crlmfon, and yellow of all fhades and hues, and the clear fky varied from blue to a fine green at the horizon. But how large the fun appears juft as it fets! I think it feems twice as big as when it is over head. TUT o It does fo; and you may probably have obferved fame apparent enlargement of the moon at its W I L LI AM. ray what is the reafon of this ? K 2 TO 2 Introduction) &c. Part I. TUTOR. It is an optical deception, depending upon principles which I cannot well explain to you till you know more of that branch of fcience. But what a nffmber of new ideas this afternoon's walk has afforded you ? I do not wonder that you found it amufing; it has been very inftrucYive too. Did von fee nothing of all thefe fights, Robert ? ROBERT. I faw fome of them, but I did not take particular notice of them. TUTOR. Why not ? ^ ROBERT. I do not know. I did not care about them ; and I made the bed of my way home. TUTOR. That would have been right if you had been fent on a meiTage; but as you only walked for amufement, it would have been wifer to have fought out as many fources of it as poffible. But ib it is one man walks through the world with his eyes open, and another with them fhut ; and upon this difference depends all the fuperiority of knowledge the one acquires above the other. I Lave known failors who had been in all the quarters of the world, and could tell you nothing but the iigns of the tippling-houfes they frequented in different ports, and the price and quality of the liquor. On the other hand, a Franklin could not erols the channel without making fome obferva Clap. 5. Dialogues. 103 tions ufeful to mankind. While many a vacant thoughtlefs youth is whirled throughout Europe, without gaining a Tingle idea worth crofting a ftreet for, the obferving eye and inquiring mind find matter of improvement and delight, in every ramble in town and country. Do you then William continue to make ufe of your eyes; and you Robert, learn that eyes were given you to ufe. DR. AIKIN, CHAPTER VI. PROMISCUOUS PIECES. SECTION I, We deftroy pleafure by purfulng it too eagerly. JLJL BOY, fmitten with the colours of a butterfly, purfued it from jtower to flower with indefatigable pains. Firft, h aimed to furprife it among the leaves of a rofej then to cover it with his hat, as it was feeding on a daify. At one time, he hoped to fecure it, as it revelled on a fprig of myrtle; and at another, grew fure of his prize, perceiving it to loiter on a bed of violets. But the fickle fly ftill eluded his attempts. At laft, obferving it half buried in the cup of a tulip, he rufhed forward, and fnatching it with violence, crufhed it to pieces. Thus, by his eagernefs to enjoy, he loft the objeft of his puffuit. From this inftance, young perfons may learn, that pleafure is but a painted butterfly; which, if temperately purfued, may ferve to amufe; but which, when embraced with too much ardour, will perifh in the grafp. LORD KAMES, - . 6. Prcmifcuous Pieces. 105 SECTION II. On ilerl unit and love. " OBSERVE thofe two hounds, that are coupled together, faid Euphronius to Lucy and Emilia, who were looking through the window. " How they torment each other by a difagreement in their purfuits! One is for moving flowly, and the other vainly urges onward. The larger clog now fees fome object that tempts him on this fide; and mark how he drags his companion along, who is exerting all his efforts, to purfue* different route! Thus they will continue all day at variance, pulling each other in oppofite directions, when they might, by kind and mutual compliances, pafs on eafily, merrily, and happily. Lucy and Emilia concurred in cenfuring the -nature of thefe dogs; and Euphronius cxpreffed a tender \viih, that he might never fee any thing fimilar in their behaviour to each other. " Nature," faid he, " has linked you together, by the near equality of age , by your common rela- tion to the moft indulgent parents; by the en- clearing ties of iifterhoocl; and by all thofe ge- nerous fympathies, which have been foftered in your bofoms, from the earlieft infancy. Let thefe filken cords of mutual love continue to unite you, in the fame purfuits. Suffer no allurements to draw you different ways; no contradictory paffions to diftracl your friend ihipj nor any , or fordid jealoufies, to render thofe io6 IntroduEtion, &c. Part I. bonds uneafy and oppreflive, which are now your ornament, your ftrength, and your happinefs." PERCIVAL. SECTION III. The Supreme Ruler of the world. MANY kingdoms, and countries full of people, and iflands, and large continents, and different climes, make up this whole world : God governs it. The people fwarm upon the face of it like ants upon a hillock. Some are black with the hot fun; iorne cover -themfelves with furs againft the fharp cold; fotne drink of the fruit of the vine;; fome the pleafant milk of the cocoa-nut ; and others quench their third with the running ftream. All are GodY 'family ; he knows every one of them, as a fhepherd knows his flock. They pray to him in different languages, but he underftands them all ; he hears them all \ he takes care of all: none are fo great, that he cannot punifh them ; none are fo mean, that he will not protect them. Negro woman, who fltteft pining in captivity, and weepeft over thy fick child; though no one ' fees thee, God fees thee ; though no one pities thee, God pities thee. Raife thy voice, forlorn and abandoned one v call upon him from amidft thy bonds ; for affuredly he will hear thee. Monarch, that ruleft over a hundred fbtes ; whole frown is terrible as death, and whofe armies cover the land, boaft not thyfeif as though there were none above thee. God is above thee , his pov. t,kap. 6. Promifcuous Pieces. 107 ful arm is always over thee ; and if thou doeft ill, affuredly he will punilh tL Nations of the earth, fear the Lord ; families of men, call upon the name of your God. Is there, any one whom God hath not madesfr iffhim not worlhip him. Is there any one whom he hath not bleffed ? let him not praife hi BARBAUI. r. SECTION IV. AbraLvn and Lot : a fne e.\ w if Jem and condt'scr DOMESTIC altercations began to perplex fami- lies in the very childhood of time; the blood even of a brother was fhcd, . riod. Uut with how much tend :ie does Abraham prevent the d which had nearly arifcn, as is but too frequently the cafe, from the quarrels of fervants! Ik- laid unto Lot f " I pray thee let there be no ft rife betwixt me and thee, nor between my herd men and thine." And why? For the tendered reafon that can be: " bo caufe, we are brethren." The very image of the patriarch in the attitude of entreaty, the fraternal tear juft ftarting from his eye, is this moment be- fore me : and thus, methinks, I catch infrruction from the lip of the venerable inan, as he addrefTes Lot. " Away, my clear brother, away with ftrife: born to be the fervants of God, and the companions of each other : as we fprang from the .\rcnt, fo we naturally partake of the . io Introduction t &c. Part i. affections. We are brethren, fons of the fame father : \ve are friends; for furely kindredfhip fhould be the moft exalted friendship. Let us not then difagree, becaufe our herdmen have dif- agreed ;*Hh&t that were to encourage every idle pique, and fenfelefs animofity. Great, indeed, has been our fuccefs (ince our migration into this fair country: we have much fubftance, and much cattle. But what ! (hall brothers quarrel, becaufe it has pleafed Heaven to profper them? This would be ingratitude, impiety! But if, notwith- ftanding thefe perfuafives, thy fpirit is ftill troubled, let us feparate: rather than contend with a. brother, I would, hard as it is, even part with him for a time. Perhaps the occafion of dispute (which I have already forgotten ) will foon be no more remembered by thee. Is not the whole land before thee ? Take then rny bleffing and my em- brace, and feparate thyfelf from me. To thee is fubmitted the advantage of choice ; if thou wilt take the left hand, then, that I may not appear to thwart thee unbrotherly, I will take the right \ or, if thou art more inclined to the country which lies upon the right, then will I go to the left. Be it as thou wilt, and whitherfoever thou goeft, happy mayft thou be!" Lot liftened to his brother, and departed. He caft his eyes on the well-watered plains of Jordan. "When he feparated, it appears to have been with the hope of increafing his wealth : whilft Abraham, actuated by the kindeft motives, often, no doubt, preiTed his brother's hand-, and often bade him adieu; and even followed him to repent p t 6. Promifcu&us Pieces. io day with thee ?" And Aram anfwered and : ; " Behold, O Lord! he eat of thy bread, and ild not offer unto thee his prayers and thnnks- Thercfore did I chaftife him, and d> L no Introduction) &c. Parti. him from before me into the wildernefs." And the Lord faid unto Aram ; " Who hath made thee a judge between me and him? Have not I borne with thine iniquities, and winked at thy back- flidings ; and (halt thou be fevere with thy brother, to mark his errors, and to punifh his perverfenefs ? Arife and follow the ftranger ; and carry with thee oil and wine, and anoint his bruifes, and fpeak kindly unto him. For I, the Lord thy God, am a jealous God, and judgment belongeth only unto me. Vain is thine oblation of thankfgiving,* with- out a lowly heart. As a bulrulh thou mayft bow- down thine head, and lift up thy voice like a trumpet; but thou obeyed not the ordinance of thy God, if thy worfhip be for ftrife and debate. Behold the facrifice that I have chofen : is it not to undo the heavy burdens; to let the opprelTed go free; and to break every yoke? to deal' thy bread to the hungry; and to bring the poor, that are caft out, to thy houfe ?" And Aram trembled be- fore the prefence of God. And he arofe, and put on fackcloth and afhes; and went out into the wildernefs, to do as the Lord had commanded him. FERcivAL. SECTION VI. The folly of pride. IF there be any thing which makes -human na- ture appear ridiculous to beings of superior facul- ties, it mud be pride. They know fo well the vanity of thofe imaginary perfections that fwell Chap. 6. Prcmifciious Pieces. ru the heart of man, and of thofe little fupernumerary advantages of birth, fortune, or title, which one man enjoys above another, that it muft certainly very much aftonish, if it does not very much divert them, when they fee a mortal puffed up, and valu- ing himfelf above his neighbours, on any of thcfe accounts, at the fame time that he is liable to all the common calamities of the fpecies. To fet this thought in its true light, we ihall fancy, if yon pleaie, that* yonder molehill isMii- habited by reafonable creatures ; and that every pismire (his fhape and way of life only exceptcd) is endowed with human pafiions. How fliould we fmile to hear one give an account of the pedigrees, distinctions, and titles, that reign among them ! Obierve how the whole fwarni divide, and make way for the pifmire that pa lies along ! You muft underftand he is an emmet of quality, and has better blood in his veins than any pifmire in the molehill. Do not you fee how fenlible he is of it, how flo\v irches forward, how the whole rab- ble of ants keep the .ce ? Here you may one placed upon a little eminence, and looking down on a long row of labourers. He is t on this Ikle the hillock : he In;; .ilk of half a yard in length, and a quarter of nch in breadth ; he keeps a hundred menkil fen ants, and has at leaft fifteen barley corns in his He is now chiding and enflaving the cm met that (lands before him, one who, for all can difcover, is as good an emmet as here comes an infcft of rank ! Do not you Hi* Introduction) &c. fart >. perceive the little white ftraw that he carries in his mouth ? That ftraw, you muft underftand, he would not part with for the longeft tract about the molehill : you cannot conceive what he has under- gone to purchaie it ! See how the ants of all qua- lities and conditions fwarm about him ! Should this ftraw drop out of his mouth, you would fee all this numerous circle of attendants follow the next that took it up ; and leave the difcarded infect, or run o.ver his back to come to his fucccfTor. If now you have a mind to fee the ladies of the molehill, obierve first the pifmire that liftens to the emmet on her left hand, at the fame time that flie. feems to turn away her head from him. He tells this poor insect, that she is a superior being ; that Tier eyes are brighter than the fun ; that life and death are at her difpofal. She believes him, and gives herfelf a thoufand little airs upon it. Mark the vanity of the pifmire on her right hand. She can fcarcely crawl with age , but you muft know ihe values herfelf upon her birth , and, if you mind, fpurns at every one that comes wkhin her reach. The little nimble coquette that ; s running by the fide of her, is a wit. She has broken many a pismire's heart. Do but obferve what a drove of admirers are running after her. We fhall here finifh. this imaginary fcene. But iirft of all, to draw the parallel clofer, we fhall fup- pofe, if you pleafe, that death comes down upon the molehill, in the fhape of a cock-fparrow ; and picks up, without diftinction, the pifmire of quality vind his flatterers, the pifmire of fubftance and his .day-labourers, the white ftraw-officer aod his fyco- . 6. Promi/awm Pieces. 1 1 ^ phants, with all the ladies of rank, the V'hich he the beauties of the molehill. orifon ; May we not imagine, that beings of fupe^r his tures and perfections regard all the m(foi pride and vanity among our own fpecitfi of the fame kind of view, when they take a them by thofe who inhabit this earth ; or, (in the value of of an ingenious trench poet,") of thd for their that people this heap of dirt, which huRANKLm. has divided into climates and regions ? SECTION VII. The WH FN I was a cMld about ftven years of age, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pocket with half- pence I went directly towards a fhop where toys were fold for children ; and being charmed with the found of a whiftle that 1 met by the way, in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him all my money for it. , ; I then came home, and went whiftling .over the houfe, much ple;ifed with my k'a full, the river's flow, The woody vallies, warm and low ; The windy summit, wild and higlj| Roughly rushing on the sky; The pleasant scat, the ruin'd tower, The naked rock, the shady bower, The town and village, dome and farm, Each gives each a double charm. DYER. Alexis was repeating thefe lines to Euphronius, who was reclining upon a feat in one of his fields, enjoying the real beauties of nature which the poet describes. The evening was ferene, and the landfcape appeared in all the gay attire of light and " A man of lively imagination," faid Eu- phronius, " has a property in every thing which no Introduction y feV. Partis he fees: and you may now conceive yourfelf to be the, proprietor of the vaft expanfe around us; and exult in the happinefs of myriads of living creatures, who inhabit the woods, the lawns, and the mountains, which prefent themfelves to our view." The houfe, garden, and pleafure grounds of Eugenic, formed a part of the profpecV: and Alexis exprefTed a jocular wifh, that he had more than an imaginary property in thofe poiTeffions. " Baniih the ungenerous-defire," faid Euphronius; *' for if you indulge fuch emotions as thefe,- your heart will foon become a prey to envy and difcon- tent. Enjoy, with gratitude, the bleffings which you have received from the liberal hand of Provi- dence; increafe them, if you can with honour and credit, by a diligent attention to the buiinefs for which you are deflgned; and though your own cup may not be filled, rejoice that your neigh- bour's overflows with plenty. Honour the abilities; and emulate the virtues of Eugenio : but repine not that hcPMs wifer, richer, or more powerful, than yourfelf. His fortune is expended in acls of humanity, generoiity, and hofpitaiity. His fupe- rior talents are applied to the iniiruclion of his children; to the affiftance of his friends; to the encouragement of agriculture, and of every ufeful art; and to fupport the caufe of liberty and tiie rights of mankind. And his power is exerted to punilh the guilty, to protect the innocent, to re- ward the good, and to diftrihute juftice, with an equal hand, to all. i feel the affection of a bro- ther for Eugenio; and efteem myfelf fingularly happy in his friendfhip." PERCIVAL, Cftap- Promjfcucus Pieces. 117 SECTION IX. Infolent deportment towards inferiors reproved. SACCHARISSA was about fifteen years of age. Nature had given her a high ipirit, and education had foftered it into pride and haughtinefs. This temper was difplayed in every little competition, which fhe had with her companions. She could not brook the leaft oppofition from thofe whom (he regarded as her inferiors j and, if they did not inftantly fubmit to her inclination, ihe afTumed all her airs of dignity, and treated them wkh the moil fupercilious contempt. She domineered over .her father's fervants; always commanding their good offices with the voice of authority, and difdaining the gentle language of requeft. Euphronius was one day walking with her, when the gardener brought her a nofegay, which (lie had odMkd him to coileft. " Blockhead !" ihe cried, Wlie de- livered it to her; " what ftrange flowers you have chofen; and how awkwardly you have put them together!" " Blame not the man with fo much harfhnefs," faid Euphronius, " becaufe his tafte is different from yours! He meant to pleafe you, and his good intention merits your thanks, and not your cenfur Thanks!'' replied SacchariiTa, fcornfully. "He is paid for his , r _,ices, and it is luty to perform them." " And if he does per- form them, he acquits himfclf of his duty/' re- turned Euphronius. ; . or from m nded to it. An ab- folt. , as indeed it is for < If an awkward perfon drinks tea or co often fcalds his mouth, and lets cit!'er tlic cup or the faucef fall, and fpills : on his clothes. At dinner his .iwL- \\Mrdn.. -Is tliitinguiilies itfelf par- ticularly, as he !i ro do. There, he holds his n, differently from other h his knifir, to the ;rcat danger of tli with his fork j and puts his fpoon, which has been in his mouth twenty times, into the diflu< a^ain. If he is to carve, he can 't the joint; but in his vain efforts to cut through the bone, fcatters the iauce in every body's face. He generally daubs himfelf with foup and greafe. though his napkin is commonly ftuck through a button-hole, and tickles his chin. Wl. in his glafs, and be- ikles the company. Befides all this, he has 128 Introduction^ &c. Part I. ftrange tricks and geftures ; fuch as fnuffing up his nofe, making faces, putting his fingers in his nofe, or blowing it, and looking afterwards in his handkerchief, fo as greatly to difguft the company. His hands are troublefome to him, when he has not fomething in them ; and he does not know where to put them, but keeps them in perpetual motion. All this, I own, is not in any degree criminal ; but it is highly difagreeable and ridicu- lous in company ; and ought moft careftdly to be guarded againft, by every one that defires to pleafe. There is, likewife, an awkwardness of expreffion and words which ought to be avoided ; fuch as falfe Englifh, bad pronunciation, old fayings and vulgar proverbs ; which are fo many proofs of a poor education. ' For example, if, inftead of faying that taftes are different, and that every man has his own peculiar one, you fhould let off a vulgar proverb, and fay, u That what is one man's meat is another man's poifon ;'' or elfe, u Every one to his liking, as the good man faid when he kifled his cow ," the company would be perfuaded that you had never aflbciated with any but low perfons. To miftake or forget -names ; to fpenk of " What-d'ye-call-him," |f, " Thingum,'' or <( How-d'ye-call her," is ^ceffively awkward and vulgar. To begin a ftory or narration, when you are not perfect in it, and: cannot go through with it, but are forced, poffibiy, to fay in the middle of it, " I have forgotten the reft," is very unplea- fant and bungling. One muft be extremely exact, clear, and perfpicuous, in every -thing one fays j Chap. 6. P 129 otherwife, inrtead of entertaining or informing others, one only tires and puzzles them. The voice and manner of fpeaking, too, are not to be Lctcd. Some people aim ft fhut their mouths when they fpeak: and mutter fo, that they are not to be underilood : others fpeak fo fart, and fputter, that they are equally unintelligible. Some always fpeak as loud as if they were talking to deaf people , and others fo low, that one cannot hear them. All tliefe, and many other habits, are J difhr>reeable, and arc to be avo; by attention. You cannot' imagine how necefTary it is to mind all theie little things. I have \ many people, with great talents, ill received, for want of having theie talents too-, ;;nd others well received, only from their little talents, and who had no great OIK SECTION XIV. The ungrateful guejl* PHILIP, king of Macedon, is celebrated for an aft of private juftice, which does great honour to his memory. A certain foldier, in the Macedonian army, had, in various inftances, diflinguiihed him- felf by extraordinary acts of valour ; and had re- ceived many marks of Philip's approbation and favour. On a particular occaiion, this foldier em- barked on board a veffel, which was wrecked by a violent rtorm; and he was cart on the ihore, help- lefs and naked, with fcarcely any appearance of A Macedonia*) whofe lands were contiguous 130 Introduction, &c. Part I. to the fea, came opportunely to be witnefs of his diftrefs; and, with the moft humane and charitable tendernefs, flew to the relief of the unhappy ftran- ger. He bore him to his houfe, laid him in his own bed, revived, cherifhed, and comforted him ; and, for forty days, fupplied him freely with all the necefiaries and conveniences which his languiih- ing condition could require. The foldier, thus happily refcued from death, was inceiTant in the warmeft expreflions of gratitude to his benefactor; allured him of his intereft with the king; and of his determination to obtain for him, from the royal bounty, the noble returns which fuch extra- ordinary benevolence had merited. He was at length completely recovered ; and was fupplied by his kind hoft with *noney to purfue his journey. After fome time, the foldier prefented himfelf before the king; he recounted his misfortunes; he magnified his fervices : and this inhuman wretch, who had looked with an eye of envy on the poffeffions of the man by whom his life had been preferved, was fo devoid of gratitude, and of every humane fentiment, as to requeft that the king would beftow upon him the houfe and lands, where he had been fo tenderly and kindly enter- tained. Unhappily Philip, witfoput examination, precipitately granted his infamous requeft. The foldier then returned to his preferver; and repaid his goodnefs by driving him from his fettlement, and taking immediate pofleffion of all the fruits of his honeft induftry. The poor man, ftung with fuch an inftance of unparalleled ingratitude and infenflbility, boldly determined, inftead of fubmit- Lhap. o. Promifcuotis Pieces. 131 ting to his wrongs, to feek relief : and, in a letter addrefTed to Philip, reprefented his own, and the foldier's conduct, in a lively and affecting manner. The king was inftantly fired with indignation. He ordered that ample juftict fhould be done without delay ; that the pofTeffions Humid be immediately reftored to the man whofe charitable offices had been thus horridly repaid , and, to fhow his ab- horrence of the deed, he caufed the foldier to be feized, and to have thcfe words branded on his forehead " The Ungrateful Guefl." GOLDSMITH. SECTION \ The hfpttal m. THE enterprifing traveller, INTungo T'ark, was employed, by the African Aflbcianon, to explore the interior regions of Africa. In this hazardous undertaking, he encountered ninny dangers and difficulties. His wants were often fuppliecl, and his diftrefles alleviated, by the kindnefs and com- paffion of the negroes. He gives the following lively and interefting account of the hofpitable treatment he received from a poor negro woman. '* Being arrived at Sego, the capital of the kingdom of Bambarra, fltuatcd on the banks of the Niger, I wifhed to pafs over to that part of the town in which the king refides : but from the number of perfons eager to obtain a pafTage, I was under the neceffity of waiting two hours. During this time, the people who had crofTed 132 .'Introduction, feV. Part I, river, carried information to Manfong, the king, that a white man was waiting for a pafTage, and was coming to fee him. He immediately fent over one of his chief men, who informed me that the king could not poflibly fee me, until he knew what had brought me into his country ; and that I muft not prefume to crofs the river without the king's permiffion. He therefore advifed me to lodge, for that night, at a diftant village to which he pointed j and faid that, in the morning, he would give me further inftructions how to con- duct myself- This was very difcouraging. How- ever, as there was no remedy, I fet off for the village -, where I found, to my great mortification, that no perfon would admit me into his houfe, From prejudices infufed into their minds, I was regarded with aftonifhment and fear ; and was obli- ged to lit the whole day without victuals, in the jQiade of a tree. The night threatened to be very uncomfortable; for the wind rofe, and there was great appearance jpf a heavy rain : the wild beafts too were fo nu- merous in the neighbourhood, that I fhould have been under the neceffity of climbing up the tree, and refting among the branches. About fun- fet, however, as I was preparing to pafs the night in this manner, and had turned my horfe loofe, that he might graze at liberty, a negro woman, return- ing from the labours of the field, flopped to ob- ferve me : and perceiving that I was weary and dejected, inquired into myfituation. I briefly ex- plained it to her ; after which, with looks of great compaffion, {he took up my faddJe and Chap. 6. Promlfcuous Pieces. 133 bridle, and told me to follow her. Having con- ducted me into her hut, (lie lighted a lamp, fpread a mat on the floor, and told me I might remain there for the night. Finding that I was very hun- gry, {he went out to procure me fomething to eat ; and returned in a ihort time with a very fine fifh; which, having caufed it to be half broiled upon fome embers, flie gave me for fupper. The rites of hofpitality being thus performed towards a ftranger in diftrefs, my worthy benefaclrefs (point- ing to the mat, and telling me I might ileep there without apprehenfion) called to the female part of her family, who had ftood gazing on me all the while in fixed aftonifhment, to refume their talk of fpinning cotton; in which they continued to employ themfelves great part of the night/* 4 They lightened their labour by fongs, one of which was compofed extempore; for I was my- felf the fubjecl of it. It was fung by one of the young women, the reft joining in a fort of chorus. The air was fweet and plaintive, and the words, literally tranflated, were thefe. " The winds roared and the rains fell. The poor white man, faint and weary, came and fat under our tree. lie has no mother to bring him milk; no wife to grind his corn. Chorus. Let us pity the white man: no mother has he to bring him milk; no wife to grind his corn.'** Trifling as thefe * These simple aod pathetic sentiments, have been very beautifully versified and expanded, by the duchess of Devonshire. The following is a copy of this little in- teresting piece of poetry. N 134 Introduction, (Be. Part I. events may appear to the reader, they were to me affecting in the higheft degree. I was opprefTed by fuch unexpected kindnefs ; and fleep fled from my eyes. In the morning I prefented to my com- paffionate landlady two of the four brafs buttons which remained on my waiftcoat ; the only re- compenfe it was in my power to make her." PARK'S TRAVELS. The loud wind roar'cl, the rain fell fast; The white man yielded to the blast. He sat him down beneath the tree, For weary, sad, and faint was he : And ah I no wife or mother's care, For him the milk or corn prepare. CHORUS. The white man shall our fit ty share: "\ ! no wife-) or mother's care, For him the milk or corn prepare. The storm is o'er, the tempest past, And mercy's voice has hush'd the blast ; The wind is heard in whispers low : The white man far away must go ; But ever in his heart will bear Remembrance of the negro's care. CHORUS. Go, white man, go ; but with thee bear The negro's wish, the negro's pray'r. Remembrance of the negro's care. I . 6. Promifcuous Pieces. 135 SECTION XVI. Catharine*, etnprefs of RuJJia. CATHARINA ALEX OWN A, born near Der- pat, a little city in Livonia, was heir to no other inheritance than the virtues and frugality of her parents. Her father being dead, fhe lived with her aged mother, in their cottage covered with flraw; and both, though very poor, were very con- tented. Here, retired from the gaze of the world, by the labour of her hands fhe fupported her parent, who was now incapable of fupporting herfe-lf. While Catharina fpun, the old woman would fit by, and read fome book of devotion. When the fatigues of the day were over, both would fit down contentedly by their fire-fide, and enjoy their frugal meal. Though Catharina's face and perfon were models of perfection, yet her whole attention feemed beftowed upon her mind. Her mother taught her to read, and an old Lutheran miniftcr ! her in the maxims and duties of religion. Nature had furnifhed her not only with a ready, but a folid turn of thought; not only with a ftrong, but a right underftanding. Her virtues and ac- complifliments procured her feveral folicitations of marriage, from the peaiants of the country : but their offers were refufecl , for ihe loved her mother too tenderly to think of a feparation. is fifteen years old when her mother She then left her cottage, and went to live Lutheran miniiter, by whom fhe had been 136 If rtr eduction, &e. Part I. inflrucled from her childhood. In his houfe fhe refided, in quality of governefs to his children ; at once reconciling in her character unerring pru- dence with furprifing vivacity. The old man, who regarded her as one of his own children, had her inftrudtcd in the elegant parts of frmale education, by the matters who attended the reft of his family. Thus fhe continued to improve, till he died; by which accident fhe was reduced to her former poverty. The country of Livonia was at that time wailed by war, and lay in a miferable ftate of defolation. Thofe calamities are ever moft heavy upon the poor ; wherefore Catha- rina, though poffefTed of fo many accomplifhments, experienced all the miferies of hopelefs indigence. Provifions becoming every day more fcarce, and her private ftock being entirely exhaufted, fhe re- folved at laft to travel to Marienburgh, a city of greater plenty. With her fcanty wardrobe, packed up in a wal- let, fhe fet out on her journey, on foot. She was to walk through a region miferable by nature, but rendered ftili more hideous by the Swedes and Ruffians, who, as each happened to become mas- ters, plundered it at difcretion : but hunger had taught her to defpife the dangers and fatigues of the way. One evening, upon her journey, as fhe had entered a cottage by the way-fide, to take up her lodging for the night, fhe was infulted by two Swedifh foldiers. They might, probably, have carried their infults into violence, had not a fubal* tern officer, accidentally paffing by, come in to her afilfbnce. Upon his appearing, the foldiers Prcmifcuous Pieces. I3J immediately dcfiilcd; but her thankfulnefs was hardly greater than her furprife, when ilie in- ftantly recollecled, in her deliverer, the Ton of the Lutheran minifiLr, her former inftructer, be- .ck>r, and friend. This was a happy interview for Catharina. The little ftock of monty ihe had brought from home was by this time quite ex- hauftedj her clothes u ere gone, piece by piece, in order to fatibfy thofe who had entertained her .heir houfes : her generous countryman, there- fore, parted wiih what he could fpare, to buy her clothes; furniflied her with a horfe ; and e her letters of recommendation to a faith- ful friend of his father's, the fuperintendent of Marienburgh. SECTION XVII. continued. THE beautiful ftranger was well received at Marienburgh. ; ; immediately admitted the fuperintendent's family, as governels to his two d.;' and, though but feventeen, fho\ .:pable of inltruding her fex, not only in virtue, but in politenefs. Such were her good fenfe and beauty, that her mafter himfclf in a (hort tin 1 her his hand ; which, to his great furprife, flic thought proper to refufe. Ac- c.l by a '. of gratitude, Oie was refolved ;iarry her deliverer only, though he had loft .:rm, and was otherwiie cii-.Iuiiired by wounds, in the fervice. In crder, therefore, to 13^ Introduction, &c. Part I. prevent farther felicitations from others, as foon as the officer came to town upon duty, fhe offered him her hand, which he accepted with joy \ and their nuptials were accordingly folemnized. But all the lines of her fortune were to be ttriking. The very day on which they were married, the Ruffians laid iiege to Marienburgh. The unhappy foldier was immediately ordered to an attack, from which he never returned. In the mean time, the fiege went on with fury, aggravated on one fide by obttinacy, on the other by revenge. The war between the two northern powers at that time was truly barbarous : the in- nocent peafant, and the harmlefs virgin, often fhared the fate of the foldier in arms. Marien- burgh was taken by affault ; and fuch was the fury of the aiTailants, that not only the garrifon, but aimed all the inhabitants, men, women, and chil- dren, were put to the fword. At length, when the carnage was pretty well over, Catharina was found hid in an oven. She had hitherto been poor, but free: fhe was now to conform to her hard fate, and learn what it was to be a flave. In this fituation, however, fhe behaved with piety and humility ; and though misfortunes had abated her vivaciry, yet fhe was cheerful. The fame of her merit and refignation reached even prince Mer.zikoff, the Ruffian general. He defired to fee her j was pleafed with her appearance; bought her from the foldier, her matter : and placed her under the direction of his own fitter. Here fhe was treated with all the refpect which her merit Chap. 6. Promifcitous Pieces. 139 dcfervecl, while her beauty every day improved with her good fortune. '--% She had not been long in this fituation, when Peter the Great paying the prince a viiic, Catharina happened to come in with ibme dried fruits, which fhe ferved round with peculiar modefcy. The mighty monarch faw her, and was ftruck with her beauty. He returned the next day j called for the beautiful flave; afked her feveral queftions ; and found the charms of her mind fuperior even to thofe of her perfon. He hud been forced, when young, to marry from motives of intereft; he was now refolved to marry purfuant to his n inclinations. He immediately inquired into the hiftory of the fair Livonian, who was not yet eighteen. i 1 her through the vale of ob- fcurity, through the viciflitiides of her fortune ; and found her truly great in them all. The mean- nefs of her birth was no obftrucYion to his defign. The nuptials were folemnized in private; the prince declaring to his courtiers, that virtue was the propereft ladder to a throne. We now fee Catharina, raifcd from the low, mud-wal!ed cottage, to be emprefs of the greateft kingdom upon earth. The poor folitary wanderer is now furrcundcd by thoufands, who find happi- nefs in her fmile. She, who formerly wanted a meal, is now capable of diftuling plenty upon whole nations. To her good fortune fhe owed a part of this pre-eminence, but to her virtues more. ever after retained thofe great qualities which placed her on a throne : and while the extraor- 140 Introduction.) &V. Part I. dinary prince, her hufband, laboured for the re- formation of his male fubjecls, ihe iludied, in her turn, the improvement of her own fex. She altered their dreifes^ introduced mixed affemblies -, inftituted an order of female knighthood; pro- moted piety and virtue : and, at length, when Ihe had greatly filled all the (rations of emprefs, friend, wife, and mother, bravely died without regret, regretted by all. GOLDSMITH, SECTION XVIII. Virtue and happtnefs equally attainable by the rick and the poor. THE man to whom God has given riches, and bleffed with a mind to employ them aright, is pe- culiarly favoured, and highly cliftinguifhed. He looks on his wealth with pleafure, becaufe it affords him the means to do good. He protects the poor that are injured; he fufFers not the mighty to op- prefs the weak. He feeks out objects of cornpas- iion ; he inquires into their wants ; he relieves them with judgment, and without oftentation. He aflifts and rewards merit -, he encourages in- genuity, and liberally promotes every ufeful de- llgn. He carrres on great works, his country is enriched, and the labourer is employed , he forms new fchemes, and the arts receive improvement. He conflders the fuperfluities of his table as be- longing to the poor of his neighbourhood ; and he defrauds them not. The benevolence of his mind is not checked by his fortune , he rejoices there- fore in riches, and his joy Js blamelefs. . 6. Promifcuous Pieces. 141 The virtuous poor man alfo may rejoice ; for he has many reafons. He fits down to his morfel in peace ; his table is not crowded with flatterers and devourers. He is not embarrafled with a train of dependents, nor teafed with the clamours of felici- tation. Debarred from the dainties of the rich, he efcapes alfo their difeafes. The bread that he eats, is it not fsveet to his tafte ? The water he drinks, is it not pleafant to his thirft ? yea, far more delicious than the richeft draughts of the luxurious. His labour preferves his health, and procures him a repofe, to wfoich the downy bed of floth is a ftranger. He limits his defires with hu- mility ; and the calm of contentment is fweeter to his foul, than all the acquifitions of wealth and grandeur. Let not the rich, therefore, prefume on his riches ; nor the poor in his poverty yield to defpondence : for the providence of God difpenfes happincis to them both. 1CONOMY OF HUM. LIFE. SECTION XIX. r character of Chrifl. WHOEVER confiders, with attention, the charac- ter of our blefled Lord, or, it may be collected from the various incidents and actions of his life, (for there are no laboured defcriptions of it, no enco- miums upon it, by his own diiciples,) will foon diicover that it was, in every refpeft, the mod perfect that ever was made known to mankind. If we only fay of him, what even Pilate faid of 142 Introduction, &c. Part i. him, and what his bittereft enemies cannot and do not deny, that ive can find no fault in him y and that the whole tenor of his life was blamelefs, this is more than can be faid of any other perfon that ever came into the world. But this is going a very little way indeed, in the excellence of his cha- racter. He was not only free from every failing, but he pofTefTed and practifed every imaginable virtue. Towards his heavenly Father he exprefled the molt ardent love, the moft fervent yet ra- tional devotion ; and difplayed, in his whole conr duel:, the moft abfolute resignation to his will, and obedience to his commands. His manners were gentle, mild, condefcending, and gracious : his heart overflowing with kindnefs, compaflion, and tendernefs to the whole human race. The great employment of his life, was to do good to the bodies and fouls of men. In this, all his thoughts, and all his time, were conftantly and almoft inceffantly occupied. He went about dif- peniing his bleflings to all around him, in a thou- iand different ways ; healing difeafes, relieving in- firmities, correcting errors, removing prejudices ; promoting piety, juftice, charity, peace, and har- mony ; and crowding into the narrow compafs of his miniftry mcife acts of mercy and compaflion, than the longeft life of the moft benevolent man upon earth ever yet produced. Over his own paflions he had the moft complete command: and though his patience was continually put to the fevereft trials, yet he was never overcome, never b^' r yed into any intemperance or ex- cefs, in word or deedj " never once ipake un- Chap. 6. Promifcucus Pieces. 143 advifedly with his lips." He endured the cruelleft infults from his enemies, with the utmoft com- pofure, meeknefs, patience, and refignation; dif- played aftonifhing fortitude under a moft painful and ignominious death; and, to crown all, in the very midft of his torments on the crofs, implored forgivenefs for his murderers, in that divinely cha- ritable prayer, " Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Nor was his wifdom inferior to his virtues. The doctrines he taught were the moft fublime, and the moft important, that were ever before delivered to mankind; and every way worthy of that God, from whom he profeffed to derive them, and whofe fon he declared himfelf to be. His precepts inculcated the pureft and moft perfect morality : his difcourfes were full of dig- nity and wifdom, yet intelligible and clear^ his parables conveyed inftruction in the moft pleafing, familiar, and impreflive manner ; and his anfwers to the many infidious qucftions that were put to him, fhowed uncommon quicknefs of conception, foundnefs of judgment, and prefence of mind ; completely baffled all the artifices and malice of his enemies; and enabled him to elude all the fnares that were laid for him. From fflB fhort and im- perfect (ketch of our Saviour's character, it is evident that he was, beyond comparifon, the wifeft and moft virtuous perfon that ever appeared in the world. BEILBY, BISHOP OF LONDON. PART II. PIECES IN POETRY. CHAPTER I. SELECT SENTENCES AND PARAGRAPHS. SECTION I. Improvement of Time. UEFER not till to-morrow to be wife ; To-morrow's fun to thee may never rife. Mora! culture. If good we plant not, vice will fill the place \ And ranked weeds the richeft foils deface. The nolleft art. Indulge the true ambition to excel In that beft art, the art of living well. Life a Jlate of trial. In its true light, this tranfient life regard : This is a ftate jof trial, not reward. Happinefs domeftic. For genuine happinefs we need not roam ; 'Tis doubtlefs found with little, and at home. Virtue and vice progrejfive. The human heart ne'er knows a flate of reft : Bad leads to worfe, and better tends to beft. Cbap. i. Selefi Sentences, &i\ 1*45 Humility. Be humble; learn thyfelf to fcan: Know, pride was never made for man. Contentment is happincff. Could wealth our happinefs augment ? What can flie give beyond content ? Virtue altogether lovely. Virtue is amiable, mild, ferene: Without, all beauty; and all peace withiu. Self partiality. .The faults of our neighbours with freedom we blame, -But tax not ourfelves tho' we pratife the fame. Candour nnd forgivenefs. How noble 'tis to own a fault ! How gen'rous nnd divine to forgive it ! Troubles from ourfelves. Tis to ourfelves, indeed, we chiefly owe The multitude of poignant griefs we feel. Refignatiw. Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou liv'fl, Lire well ; how long or fliort, permit to Hcav'n. SECTION n. Integrity. The man of pure and fimple heart, Through life difdains a double parr. He never needs the fcreen of lies ii ward bofom to difguifc. O 34& Introduction, &c. Part 2. Beft ufe of riches. When wealth to virtuous hands is giv'n, It bleffes like the dews of heav'n: Like Heav'n it hears the orphans' cries; And wipes the tears from widows' eyes. Choice of friends. Vi ' o friendfhip with a knave has made, Mig'd a partner in the trade. ? Tis thus, that on the choice of friends C: r good or evil name depends. Chriftian morality* -"" JL is our parr, As Chrifdans, to forget the wrongs we feel j :;irdon trefpalTes , our very foes To love and che.rilh ; to do good to all ; Live peaceably \ and be, in all our acts, Wife as the ferpent, gentle as the dove. Hope in afflicJion. .. Shall we pine, And be difhearten'd with a day of grief, YVbc'n the fame hand which brought afHi&ion on, ains its pow'r, and can, with equal eafe, eve it? Folly of envy. Can you difcern another's mind ? Why is't you envy ? Envy's blind. Tell envy, when (he would annoy, That thoufands want what you enjoy. The ivi/h. I iirdi not for beauty, nor languifh for wealth 5 Chap. i. Sekfi Sent ernes > 65V. 147 But grant me, kind Providence! virtue and health: Then, richer than kings, and more happy than they, My days fliall pafs fweetly and fwiftly away. Cenforioufnefs reproved. In other men we faults can fpy, And blame the mote that dims their eye; Each little fpeck and blemifli find, To our own itronger errors blind. Ere we remark another's fin, Let our own confcience look within. Self command. Ungovern'd wrath, and fell refentment fly: They rend the foul, as tempefts rend the Iky. Shun peevifh humours: they corrode the breaft, And cloud the brow; are childifli at the beft. Learn to control your tongue, that reftlefs thing f Of mifchief oft and fhame the fatal fpring. Inscription on a fun-dial. Mark well my (hade, and ferioufly attend The filent leiTon of a common friend : Since time and life fpeed haftily away, And no one can recall the former day, Improve each fleeting hour before 'tis paft ; And know, each fleeting hour may be thy laft. SECTION III. Source of true happinefs. THE happinefs of human kind Confifts in reftitude of mind, A will-fubdu'd to reafon's fway, And paflions praftis'd to obey ; 148 Introduction G? Chap. 2. Narrative Pieces. iji Whene'er by accident offended, A Looking-glafs was ttraight fufpended ; That it might fhow her how deform'd She look'd, and frightful, when (he ftorm'd ; And warn her, as the priz'd her beauty, To bend her humour to her duty. All this the Looking-glafs achiet'd ; Its threats were minded, and believ'd. The maid, who fpurn'd at all advice, Grew tame and gentle in a trice : So when ail other means had fail'd, The lilent monitor prevailed. \VILKIE. SECTION II. The Butterfly and the Stiail ; or, elevation renders little minds proud and infolent. ALL upftarts infolent in place, Remind us of their vulgar race. As in the fun/nine of the morn, A Butterfly (but newly born) Sat proudly perking on a rofe j With pert conceit his bofom glows : His wings (all glorious to behold) Bedropt with azure, jet, and gold, Wide he difplays ; the fpangled dew Reflects his eyes, and various hue. His now forgotten friend, a Snail, Beneath his houfc, with ilimy trail Crawls o'er the grass ; whom when he fpies, In wrath he to the gard'ner ries : *2 Introduction > &c. Part 2. " What means yon peafant's daily toil, From choaking weeds to rid the foil ? Why wake you to the morning's care ? Why with new arts correct the year ? Why grows the peach with crimfon hue ? And why the plum's inviting blue ; Were they to feaft his tafte defign'd, That vermine of voracious '>ind ? Crufh then the flow 5 the pilf ring race ; So purge thy garden from difgrace." cc What arrogance \" the fnail replied ; " How infolent is upftart pride ! Had ft thou not thns with infult vain Provoked my patience to complain, I had conceal'd thy meaner birth, Nor trac'ci thee to the fcum of earth. For fcr.rce nine funs have wak'd the hours, To fwell the fruit, and paint the fiow'rs, Since I thy humbler life furvey'd, In bafe and fordid guife array 'd: A hideous infect, vile, unclean. You dragged a flow and noifome train $ And from your fpider bowels drew Foul film, and fpun the dirty clue. I own my humble life, good friend ; Snail was I born, and Snail fhall end. And what's a butterfly ? At beft, He's but a caterpillar dreft : And all thy race, (a numerous feed) Shall prove of caterpillar breed. GAY. Narrative Pieces. 153 SECTION III. *he Brother and Sifter *, or, mental excellence fupefior tvptrfonal beauty. WARN'D by our counfel oft beware, And look into yourfelves with care. There was a certain father had A homely girl and comely bd. Thefe being at their childifh play Within their mother's room one day, A looking-glass was in the chair, And they beheld their faces there. The boy grows prouder as lie looks ; The girl is in a rage, nor brooks Her boafting brother's jefts and fnecrs, Affronted at each word Ihc hears. Then to her father down- fhe flies, And urges all fhe can devife Againft the boy, who could prefumc To meddle in a lady's room. At which, embracing each in turn With moft affectionate concern, " My dears," faid he, " you muft not pais A diy without this ufeful glafs ; You, left you fpoil a pretty face, By doing things to your difgrace - You, by good conduct to correct Your form, and beautify defect/' SMART. 154 Introduction ) &V. Part 2. SECTION IV. ke Lanib and the Pig ; or, nature and education. CONSULT the moralift, you'll find That education forms the mind. But education ne'er fupplied What ruling nature has denied. If you'll the following page purfue, My tale fhall prove this doctrine true. Since to the mufe all brutes belong. The lamb fhaii ufher in my ibng ; Whofe fnowy fleece adorcM her fkin, Emblem of native white within. Meeknefs and love poffdPd her foul, And innocence had crown'd the whole* It chanc'd upon a lucklefs day, The little wanton, full of play, Rejoic'd a thimy bank to gain ; But fhort the triumphs of her reign ; The treacherous flopes her fate foretell, And foon the pretty trifler fell. Beneath, a dirty ditch imprefsM Its mire upon her fpptlefs veft. What greater ill couM lamb betide, The butcher's barb'rous knife befide ? The Ihepherd^ wounded with her cries, Straight to the bleating fufferer flies. The lambkin in his arms he took, And bore her to a neighb'ring brook. The iilver ftreams her wool refin'd ; Her fleece in virgin whitenefs fliin'd. Ckaf. 2. Narrative Pisces, 155 Cleans'd from pollution's every ftain, She join'd her fellows on the plain ; And faw afar the {linking fhore, But ne'er approach' d thofe dangers more. The fhepherd blefs'd the kind event, , And view'd his flock with fweet content. To market next he fhap'd his way, And bought provisions for the day : But made, for winter's rich fupply, A purchafe from a farmer's fty. The children round their parent crowd ; And teftify their mirth aloud. They faw the ftranger with furprife, And all admir'd his little eyes. Familiar grown, he fliar'd their joys ; Shar'd too the porridge with the boys. The females o'er his drefs prcflde ; They wafh his face and fcour his hide. But daily more a fwine he grew, For all thefe houfe wives e'er could do. c o T T o K . C T I O N The Bee and the Ant ; 0r, the advantages of applica- tion and diligence in early years. ON a bright dewy fummer's morn A Bee rang'd o'er the verdant lawn ; Studious to hulband ev'ry hour, And make the mod of ev'ry flow'r. Nimble from ftalk to ftalk fhe flies, And loads with yellow wax her thighs ; 5-6. Iitfftidu&fony&c. >Parf 2. With which the artift builds her comb, And keeps all tight and warm at home : Or from the cowflip's golden bells Sucks honey to enrich her cells 5 Or ev'ry tempting rofe purfues, Or fips the lily's fragrant dews ; Yet never robs the fhining bloom, Or of its beauty, or perfume. Thus fhe difcharg'd in ev'ry way, The various duties of the day. It chanc'd a frugal Ant was near, Whofe brow was furrow'd o'er by care : A great economiit was fhe, Nor lefs laborious than the Bee; By penfive parents often taught What ills arife from want of thought ; That poverty on floth depends, On poverty the lofs of friends. Hence evVy day the Ant is found With anxious fteps to tread the ground; With curious fearch to trace the grain, And drag the heavy load with pain. The a&ive Bee with pleafure faw The Ant fulfil her parents law. Ah ! fitter-labourer, fays fhe, How very fortunate are we ! Who, taught in infancy to know The comforts which from labour flow. Are independent of the great, Nor know the wants of pride and ftate. Why is our food fo very fweet ? Becaufe we earn before we eat. Why are our wants fo very few ? Narrative Pieces. i$j Becaufe we nature's calls purfue. Whence our complacency of mind? Becauie we al our parts afiign'd. Have we inceiTant taiks to do ? Is not all nature bufy too? Does not the fun with conftant pace Periiil to run his annual race ? Do not the ftars which Ihine fo bright, Renew their courfes ev'ry night ? Does not the ox obedient bow His patient neck, and draw the plough: Or when did e'er the gcn'rous deed Withhold his labour or his fpc CO 27v RnA :t evVy ftep he treads, Man yet miftakes his way, ilc meaner things, whom inftinct leads, Are rarely known to ftr. One filent eve I wander'd late, And heard the voice of 1( The turtle thus addrefs'd her mate, And footh'd the lift'ning dove : c< Our mutual bond of faith and truth, No time (hall difengage; Thofe bleflings of our early youth, Shall cheer our lateft age. P 153 Introduction) &c. Part 2. While innocence without difguife, And conftancy fincerc, Shall fill the circles of thofe eyes, And mine can read them there > Thofe ills that wait on all below Shall ne'er be felt by me, Or, gently felt, and only fo, As being fhar'd with thee. When lightnings flafli among the trees, Or kites are hov'ring near, I fear left thee alone they feize, And know no other fear. ? f is then I feel myfelf a wife, And prefs thy wedded fide, Refolv'd a union form'd for life Death never fhall divide. But, oh ! if, fickle and unchafte, (Forgive a tranfient thought,) Thou couldft become unkind at laft, And fcorn thy prefent lot, No need of lightnings from on high, Or kites with cruel beak; Denied th' endearments of thine eye, This widow'd heart would break/' Thus fang the fweet fequefter'd bird, Soft as the paffing wind ; And I recorded what I heard, A lefTon for mankind. cow PER. P. .2. Narrative Pieces. 159 SECTION VII. The Goldfinches. ALL in a garden, on a currant bufh, Two Goldfinches had built their airy ieat , In the next orchard Hv'd a friendly thrufh, Nor dirtant far, a woodlark's ibft retreat. Here, bleft with eafe, and in each other bleft, With early fongs they wak'd the neighboring groves ; Till time matur'd their joy, and crown 'd their neft With infant pledges of their faithful loves. And now, what tranfport glow'd in cither's eye ! What equal fondnefs dealt th' allotted food ! What joy each other's likeneis to dcfcry, And future fbnnets in the chirping brood ! But ah ! what earthly happinefs can lad ? How does the faircft purpofe often fail ! A truant fchool-boy's wnntonnefs could blaft Their flattering hopes, and leave them both to wail. The moft ungentle of his tribe was he ; No gen'rous precept ever touch'cl his heart : With concord falfe, and hideous profcdy, lie fcrawl'd his talk, and blunder'd o'er his part. On mifchief bent, he mark'd with rav'nous eyes, Where, wrapt in down, the callow fongfters lay -, \6o Introduction ) JsY. Part 2, Then rufhing, rudely feiz'd the glitt'ring prize, And bore it in his impious hands away ! But how fhall I clefcribe, in numbers rude, The pangs for poor Chryfomitris decreed, When, from her fecret fhnd, aghaft, fhe view'd The cruel ipoiler perpetrate the deed ? " O grief of griefs !" with fhrieking voice fhe cried, " What fight is this that I have liv'd to fee ! O ! that I had in youth's fair feafon died, From all falie joys, and bitter forrows free. Was it for this, alas ! with weary bill, Was it for this I pois'd th' unwieldy ftraw; For this I bore the mofs from yonder hijl, Nor fhunn'd the pcnd'rous ttick along to draw ? Was it for this I pick'd the wool with care, Intent with nicer ikill our work to crown ; For this, with pain, I bent the ftubborn hair, And lin'd our cradle with the thiflle's down ? Was it for this my freedom I refign'd, And ceas'd to rove at large from plain to plain \ For this I fat at home whole days confined, To bear the fcorching heat, and pealing rain ? Was it for this my watchful eyes grew dim ? For this the rofes on my cheek turn pale ; Pale is my golden plumage, once fo trim ! And all my wonted mirth and fpirits fail!'' Chap. 2. rat we Pieces. 161 Thus fung the mournful bird her piteous tak ;- The piteous tale her mournful mate returned : Then fide by iide they fought the diftant vale ; And there in fccret iadnefs inly mourn'd. I AGO. SECTION VIII. The pet Lamb. THE dew was falling fad, the ftars began to blink; I heard a voice; it faid, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!" And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I efpied, A fnow-white mountain Lamb, with a maiden at its fide. No other fheep were near, the Lamb was all alone, And by a (lender cord was tcther'd to a ftone; With one knee on the grafs did the little maiden kneel, While to the mountain Lamb flie gave its evening meal. *f was little Barbara Lethwaite, a child of beauty rare: I xvatch'd them with delight; they were a lovely pair. And now with empty can, the maiden turn'd away; But ere ten yards were gone her footileps did fhe flay. 1 6 2 Introduction, &c. Part 2. Towards the Lamb fhe look'd, and from that fliady place I unobferv'd could fee the workings of her face : If nature to her tongue could meafur'd numbers bring, Thus, thought -I, to her Lamb that little maid would iing. " What ails thee, young one? what? why pull fo at thy cord ? Is it not well with thee ? well both for bed and board ? Thy plot of grafs is foft, and green as grafs can be: Reft, little young one, reft; what is't that aileth thee ? What is it thou would'ft feek ? What's wanting to thy heart ? Thy limbs, are they not ftrong? and beautiful thou art : This grafs is tender grafs , thefe flowers, they have no peers; And that green corn all day is ruftling in thy ears. If the fun is fhining hot, do but ftretch thy wool- len chain, This beech is ftanding by, its covert thou canft gain : For rain and mountain florins the like thou need'ft riot fear; The rain and ftorm are things which fcarcely can come here. Chap. 2. Narrative Pieces. 163 Reft, little young one, reft; thou haft forgot the day When my father found thee firft in places far away: Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert own'd by none, And thy mother from thy fide for evermore was gone. He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home; A blefTed day for thee! then whither wouldft thou roam ? A faithful nurfe thou haft; the dam that did thee Upon the mountain tops, no kinder could have been. Thou know'ft that, twice a day, I've brought thee in this can ,'li water from the brook, as clear as ever ran: And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew, I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new. It will not, will not reft ! Poor creature! can it be That 'tis thy mother's heart, which is working fo in t Things that I know not of perhaps to thee arc dear, And dreams of things which thou canft neither fee nor hear. 164 Introduction^ &c. Part 2. Alas! the mountain tops that look fo green and fair ; I've heard of fearful winds and darknefs that come there : The little brooks, that feem all paftime and all play, When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey. Here thou need'ft not dread the raven in the iky; He will not come to thee ; our cottage is hard by. Night and day thou art fafe as living thing can be : Be happy then and reftj what is't that aiieth thee?" WORDSWORTH. S E G T ION IX. The Farmer, the Spaniel, and the Cat, As at his board a farmer fat, Reptenifh'd by his homely treat, His fav'rite Spaniel near him flood, And with his matter fhar'd the food ; The crackling bones his jaws devoured, His lapping tongue the trenchers fcour'd ; Till, fated now, fupine he lay, And fnor'd the rifing fumes away. The hungry Cat, in turn drew near, And humbly crav'd a fervant's fhare. Her modeft worth the matter knew, And ftraight the fatt'ning morfel threw. Enrag'd, the funding cur awoke, And thus with fpiteful envy fpoke : " They only claim a right to eat, Who earn by fervices their meat ; 2. Narrative Pieces. 165 Me, zeal and induftry inflame To fcour the fields, and fprirg the game; Or, plunged in the wint'ry wave, For man the wounded bird to fave. With watchful diligence I keep From prowling wolves his ileecy fheep-, At home his midnight hours iecure, And drive the robber from the door. For this his breaft with kindncis glows, For this his hand the food be|$pws. And (hall thy indolence impart A warmer friend (hip to his heart, That thus he robs me of my due, To pamper fuch vile things as you !" " I own," with meeknefs, Pufs replied, " Superior merit on your fide ; Nor does my breart with envy fwell, To find it recompens'd ib well : Yet I, in what my nature can, Contribute to the good of man. Vv'h'tfc claws deftroy the pilf'ring moufe ? Who drives the vermine from the houfe ? Or, watchful for the lab'ring fwain, From lurking rats fecures the grain ? From hence if he rewards beftow, Why (hould your heart with gall overflow ? Why pine my happinefs to fee, Since there's enough for you and me ? :> " Thy words are juiV' the Farmer cried, And fpurn'd the fnarler from his fide. M OCR F, , 1 66 Introduction, &c. Part . SECTION x. The Wheat and the Weeds. 'TwAS in a pleafant month of fpring, When flow'rets bloom and warblers fingj A field of wheat began to rife, The farmer's hope, his country's prhse. When lo ! amid the op'ning ears, A various crop of weeds appears. The poppy, foldier-like array'd, Its flimfy fcarlet flow'rs difplay'd. Some, like the lofty Iky, were blue ; And fome were tinged with golden hue : But ev'ry where the wheat was feen, Clad in one robe of modeft green. It chanc'd three youths, in city bred, That knew to eat not raife their bread, For pleafure's fake, had rambled there, To fee the fun and breathe frefti air. Of herbs and grain they little knew What Linnaeus wrote, or Sinclair grevr : But each, as o'er the field they gaz'd, What fancy led to, pluck'd and praised. " See," faid the firft, " this flow'r fo red, That gently bows its blufhing head : Can the whole field a plant difplay, So rich, fo noble, and fo gay ?'' " Yes,'" faid the next, " the flow'r I fliow, With ftar-like rays 5 and (ky-like blue, So much does your dull plant outfhine, That the beft choice is furelv mine/' Chap. 2. Narrative Pieces. 1 " Stop," faid the third, " the flow'r I hold, With clufter'd leaves of burnifh'd gold, Than your's or his, is richer dreft: The choice I've made, is doubtlefs beft. 5 ' In this, however, each agreed, That nothing could his own exceed \ And that the riling blades of green, Did not deferve to grow between. A Farmer chanc'd behind the gate To overhear the youths 7 debate; Knowing from ign'rance error fprings, He flrove to teach them better things. " My lads," he faid, " now underftand, Thefe are bat weeds that fpoil our land; 13ut the green blades you trample down Are wheat, man's food, and nature's crown With art and pains the crop is fown; And thus your daily bread is grown. Alas! your judgment was not right, Becaufe you judg'd from outward fight." SECTION XI. Economy the four ce of Charity. BY gen'rous goodnefs taught, my early youth Soon learnt humanity. My parents died Orphans have claims on charitable fouls; The pious Edgar thought fo: mov'd perhaps By the foft eloquence of infant tears, Perchance by nature prompted, to his roof He led the fatherlefs. It was the feat Of nuptial happi^fs : a ruftic cot, 1 68 Introduction^ &c. Part 2. Small, yet convenient, for their wants were few : And Edgar, knowing what all men ihould learn, Was with his lot contented. Happy ftate ( Labour he plied for exercife, not gain. At early dawn, he led me to the field ; And, drawing morals from each talk he took, Told me, " that ev'ry feed, well fown on earth, Would yield full harveft in that awfui day, When all arrears of labour (hall be paid ; Each well-meant toil rewarded/' Once perchance, I found him bufied near a murm'ring rill : To various little ftreams he turn'd its fource, Where, wand'ring devious through his neat drefs'd grounds, It cheer'd the green copfe, fill'd the caring corn ; Then trickled gently through the perfum'd grove. " Mark well, my child," he faid-, " this little ftream Shall teach thee Charity. It is a fource I never knew to fail : directed thus Be that foft ftream, the fountain of thy heart. For, Oh ! my much lov'd child, I truft thy heart Has thofe affecYions that fhall blefs thyfclf ; And flowing foftiy, like this little rill, Cheer all that droop." The good man did not err; The milk of human-kindnefs warm'd my breaft ; Young as I was, I felt for others' woes, And, when I could, relieved them. Yet I was young ! And, having lavifh'd all my infant ftore In gewgaw toys, and childifh fooleries, 1 do remember well, a vet'ran old, Maim'd and disfigured by the hand of war, Implor'd my charity. I felt, alas ! Chap. 2. Narrative Pieces. 169 His various wants fore, fick, and wan, he u My little heart bled at each wound he ihow'd/'*: Alas ! alas ! replied my infant thoughts, And fhall want cloud the ev'ning of his days Whofe noon of life was toil ? And then I wept, It was the firft time that I e'er knew want : I was indeed a bankrupt. Edgar came. I wept, but fpoke not , for my heart was full. " What wilt thou give, my boy ?" Fearing a lie, I fobb'd out truth mod fadly. Edgar felt ; Pardon'd my folly ; (for he lov'd my tears j) And gave what footh'd the poor man's mifery. But, in our ev'ning's walk, behold ! the ftream Was dry. I afk'd the cauie " Mark me, my child ; This rill, I told thee oft, through all thy life, Should teach thee Charity. Now let it teach, If yet thou haft to learn, that the blefs'd fource Of lib'ral deeds is, wife Economy. This morn, like thee, I drew the ftream too faft : Now when the parch'd glebe wants its wat'ry aid, The fource is all exhaufted." CHAPTER IIL DIDACTIC PIECES. SECTION I. To fome children lijlening to a lark. OEE the lark prunes his aftive wings, Rifes to heav'n, and foars, and fings ! His morning hymns, his mid-day lays, Are one continued fong of praife. He fpeaks his Maker all he can, And {names the filent tongue of man. When the declining orb of light Reminds him of approaching night, His warbling vefpers fwell his bread ; And, as he tings, he finks to reft. Shall birds inftrudlive leflbns teach, And we be deaf to what they preach ? No, ye dear neftlings of my heart ; Go, act the wifer fongfler's part : Spurn your warm couch at early dawn, And with your God begin the morn. To Him your grateful tribute pay, Thro' ev'ry period of the day. To him your ev'ning fongs direct ; His eye fhall watch, his arm protect : Tho' darknefs reigns, he's with you ftill \ Then fleep, my babes, and fear no ill. COTTON. Chap. 3. Didaftic Pieces. 171 SECTION II. The advantages of early religion. HAPPY the child, whofe tender years, Receive inftrucYion well ; Who hates the Tinner's path, and fears The road that leads to hell. When we give up our youth to God, 'Tis pleafing in his eyes : A flow'r, that's offer 'd in the bud, Is no vain facrifice. 'Tis eafy work, if we begin To fear the Lord betimes j While finners, who grow old in fin, Are harden 'd in their crimes. Twill fave us from a thoufand fnares, To mind religion young ; It will preferve our following years, And make our virtue ftrong. To thee, Almighty God ! to thee Our childhood we reflgn ; 'Twill pleafe us to look back and fee That our whole lives were thine. Let the fweet work of pray'r and praife Employ our youngeft breath ; Thus we're prepared for longer days, Or fit for early death. WATTS. 172 Introduction y &. Part 2. SECTION III. Peace and love recommended. LET dogs delight to bark and bite ; For God has made them fo ; Let bears and lions growl and fight, For 'tis their nature too. But, children, you hoiild never let Such angry pailions rife; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes. Let love thro' all your actions run, And all your words be mild ; Live like God's well beloved Son, That fweet and lovely child. His foul was gentle as a lamb ; And as in age he grew, He grew in favour both with man, And God his Father too. The Lord of all who reigns above, Does from his heav'nly throne, Behold what children dwell in love, And marks them for his own. WATTS. Chap. 3. Dimic Pieces. 173 SECTION IV. To a \oting woman, ivith a watch. WHILE this gay toy attracts thy fight, Thy reafon let it warn ; And feize, my dear, that rapid time, That never muft return. If idly loft, no art or care The bleffing can reftore ; And Heav'n requires a ftricl account For ev'ry mil pent hour. Short is our longeft day of life, And foou its profpecl: ends, Yet on that day's uncertain date, Eternity depends. But equal to our being's aim, The fpace to virtue giv'n ; And ev'ry minute, well improv'd, Secures an age in Heav'n. CARTER, CTION v. Verfes accompanying a nofegay. a'ft not ftcal the rofe's bloom, ace ; \veet bluih of modefty, I lend an -ace. 174 Intro duftiorty &c\ Part 2. Thefe violets fcent the diftant gale; (They grew in lowly bed ;) So real worth new merit gains, By diffidence o'erfpread. Nor wilt thou e'er that lily's white, In thy complexion find $ Yet innocence may fliine as fair, Within thy fpotlefs mind. Now, in the op'ning fpring of life, Let ev'ry flow'ret bloom : The budding virtues in thy breaft Shall yield the beft perfume. This nofegay, in thy bofom plac'd, A moral may convey : For foon its brighteft tints fhall fade, And all its fweets decay. So fhort-liv'd are the lovely tribes Of Flora's tranfient reign : They bud, blow, wither, fall, and die-, Then turn to earth again. And thus, my dear, muft ev'ry charm, Which youth is proud to (hare ; Alike this quick fuccefficn prove, And the fame truth declare. Sicknefs will change the roieate hue, Which glowing health befpeaks; And age will wrirlde with its cares The fmile on beauty's cheeks. Chap. 3. Didactic Pieces. But as that fragrant myrtle wreath, Will all the reft furvive ; So fhall the mental graces ftill, Through endlefs ages live. SECTION v i . Duties of the morning. SEE the time for ileep has run *, Rife before or with the fun. Lift thy hands and humbly pray, The Fountain of eternal day, That, as the light ferenely fair, Illumines all the tracts of air; The facred Spirit fo may reft, With quickening beams >ipon thy breaft; And kindly clean it all within, From darker blcmiihes of fin : And fhine with grace until we view The realm it gilds with glory too. See the day that dawns in air, Brings along its toil and care. From the lap of night it fprings, With heaps of bufinefs on its wings : Prepare to meet them in a mind, That bows fubmiffively refignM : That would to works appointed fall ; That knows that God has ordered all. whether, with a fmali repair, brcalc the fober morning fafl ; Or in our thoughts and hcufes lay The future methods of the day ; 176 Introduftion^ &c. Part 2* Or early walk abroad to meet Our bufinefs with induftrious feet: Whate'er we think, whatever we do, His glory ftill be kept in view. O, Giver of eternal biifs, Heav'nly Father, grant me this ! Grant it all, as well as me, All whofe hearts are fix'd on thee j Who revere the Son above ; Who thy facred Spirit love ! PARNELL. SECTION VII. The mind to be cultivated. HEAR, ye fair mothers of our ifle, Nor fcorn your poet's homely ftyle. What tho' my thoughts be quaint or new, I'll warrant that my doctrine's true : Or if my fentiments be old, Remember, truth is fterling gold. You judge it of important weight, To keep your rifing offspring ftraight: vFor this fuch anxious motions feel, And afk the friendly aid of fteel; For this import the diftant cane, Or flay the monarch of the main. And fhall the foul be warp'd afide, By paflion, prejudice, and pride ? Deformity of heart I call The worft deformity of all. Chap. 3. Didatlic Pieces. 177 Your cares to body are confin'd \ Few fear obliquity of mind. Why not adorn the better part ? This is a nobler theme for art. For what is- form, or what is face, But the foul's index, or its cafe ? Now take a fimile at hand ; Compare the mental foil to land. Shall fields be tillM with annual care, And minds lie fallow ev'ry year? O, fmce the crop depends on you, Give them the culture which is due : Hoe ev'ry weed, and drefs the foil j So harveft (hall repay your toil. If human minds refemble trees, (As ev'ry moralift agrees,) Prune all the ftragglers of your vine , Then fhall the purple clufters fliine. The gard'ner knows, that fruitful life Demands his falutary knife : For every wild luxuriant moot, Or robs the*bloom, or ftarves the fruit. COTTON. SECTION VIII. Dependence on Providence. REGARD the world with cautious eye, Nor raife your expectation high. See tha: \1 fcalcs be fuch, You neither fear nor hope too much. For difappointment's not ti.e thing ; 'Tia pride and paifion point the fling. 178 Introduftion, &c. Part 2. Life is a fea where dorms muft rife ; 'Tis folly talks of cloudiefs fkies : He who contracts his fwelling fail, Eludes the fury of the gale. Be ftill, nor anxious thoughts employ j Diftruft embitters prefent joy : On God for all events depend ; You cannot want when God's your friend. Weigh well your part, and do your beft ; Leave to your Maker all the reft. The hand which form'd thee in the womb, Guides from the cradle to the tomb. Can the fond mother flight her boy ; Can fhe forget her prattling joy ? Say then, fhall fov^eign Love defert The humble, and the honeft heart ? Heav'n may not grant thee all thy mind ; Yet fay not thou that Heav'n's unkind. God is alike, both good and wife, In what he grants, and what denies : Perhaps, what Goodnefs gives to-day, To-morrow, Goodnefs takes away. You fay, that troubles intervene j That forrows darken half the fcene. True and this confequence you fee, The world was ne'er defign'd for thee : You're like a paflenger below, That ftays perhaps a night or fo ; But ftill his native country lies Beyond the bound'ries of the Ikie^, Of Heav'n afk virtue, wifdom, health ; But never let thy pray'r be wealth. ' Didatllc Pieces. If food be thine, (tho' little gold,) And raiment to repel the cold ; Such as may nature's wants fuffice, Not what from pride and folly rife ; If foft the motions of thy foul, And a calm confcience crowns the whole ; Add but a friend to all this ftore, You can't in reafon wifli for more : And if kind Heav'n this comfort brings, 'Tis more than Heav'n beftows on kings. COTTON. A CHAPTER IV. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. SECTION I. The pleafures of retirement. APPY the man, whofe wish and care A few paternal acres bound ; Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whofe herds with milk, whofe fields with bread, Whofe flocks fupply him with attire ; Whofe trees in fummer yield him lhade, In winter fire. Bleft who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years, flide fi^L away, In health of body, peace of mindBJ Qiiiet by day, Sound fleep by night ; ftudy and eafe, Together mix'd ; fweet recreation, And innocence, which moft does pleafe, With meditation. Thus, let me live, unfeen, unknown , Thus unlamentedJet me die, Steal from the world, and not a (tone Tell where I lie. POPE, i8i SECTION II. The Sluggard. 'Tis the voice of the Sluggard I h< plain, 4< You have wak'd me too foon, iiuA num- ber again/' As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed Turns his fides aad his fhoulders, and his heavy head. ' A little more fleep and a little more {lumber ;" Thus he \\aftcs half his days, and his hours without number : And when he gets up, he fits folding his hands, Or walks about faunt'ring, or trilling he Hands. I paiVd by his garden, I faw the wild brier, The thorn, andthethiftlc, grow broader and higher. The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags ; And his money ftili waiies, till he ftarves or he begs. I made him a uMt> flill hoping to find He had ta'en beTOr care for improving his min:! : He told me his dreams, talk'd of eating ai:d drinking ; Bui rcfc reads the Bible, and never loves I then to my heart, " Here's a lefTon for me ; t man's but a picture of what I might be : thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding, o taught me betimes to love working and read- ing !" WATTS. R 1 82 Introduction ) G?f. Part SECTION III. Creation and Providence. I SING th' almighty pow'r of God, That made the mountains rife ; That fpread the flowing feas abroad, And built the lofty fkies. I fing the wifdom that ordain'd The fun to rule the day : The moon (nines full at his command, And all the ftars obey. 1 fing 'the goodnefs of the Lord, That fill'd the earth with food: i. lie form d the creatures with his word, And then pronounc'd them good. Lord ! how thy wonders are difplay'd, Where'er I turn mine eye; JMfe If I furvey the gronnd I tread(jP Or gaze upon the fky ! There's not a plant or flower below But makes thy glories known; And clouds arife, and tempefts blow, By order from thy throne. Creatures (as nunrrous as they be) Are fubj'eft to 1 thy care; There's not a place where we can flee, God is prefent there. Defcripttve Pieces. \ 8 ; . heav'n he fliines with beams of love: With wrath in hell beneath ! Tis on his earth I ftand or move, And 'tis his air I breathe. His hand is my perpetual guard \ He keeps me with his eye : Why ihould I then forget the Lord, Who is for ever nigh? WATTS, SECTION IV.. A morning in Spring. J.o! the bright, the rofy morning, Calls me forth to t^ tV e air : Cheerful fpring, with "rning, Ufhers in the new- Nature now in all her beauty, With her gently-moving tongue, Prompts me to the pleafing duty, Of a grateful morning fong. See the early blofToms fpringing ! See the jocund lambkins play! Hear the lark and linnet Cnging, Welcome to the new-born day! Vernal mufic, foftly founding, Echoes through the verdant grov iow with life abounding, 1th harmony and I 184 Introduction y &5V. Part 2, Now the kind refrefhing fhowers, Water all the plains around: Springing grafs, and painted flowers, In the fmiling meads abound. Now their vernal drefs afiuming, Leafy robes adorn the trees : Odours now, the air perfuming, Sweetly fwell the gentle breeze. Praife to thee, thou great Creator ! Praife be thine from evVy tongue : Join, ^ foul, with ev'ry creature: Join the universal fong ! For ten thoufand H ' For the richeft gifts 1 a ; Sound his praifc through earth and heav'n , ,d ]ehovan's praife aloud ! FAWCETT* SECTION v. Heavenly Wifdom. How happy is the man who hears Inftruftion's warning voice ; And who celeftial Wifdom makes His early, only choice. For (he has treafures greater far Than eaft or weft unfold ; And her reward is more fecure Than is the gain of gold. Chap. 4. Defcriptive Pieces. 185 In her right-hand flie holds to view A length of happy years ; And in her left, the prize of fame And honour bright appears. She guides the young, with innocence, In pleafure's path to tread : -V crown of glory ihe bellows Upon the hoary head. According as her labours rife, So her rewards increafe : Her ways are ways of pleafantnefs And all her paths are peace. LOGAN. SECTION' VI. The Man of Rofs. RISE, honeft mufe ! and fing the Man of Rofs. "Who hung with woods yon mountain's lultry brow * From the dry rock who bade the waters flow ? Not to the fkies in ufelefs columns toft, Or in proud falls magnificently loft; But clear and artlefs, pouring thro* the plain, Health to the lick, and folace to the fwain. Whofe caufcway y ; ws ? Whofe feats t! traveller repoic ? Who taught that lireclfd fpire to rife r " The Man of Rofs," each lifping babe replies. Behold the market-place \vith poor o'erfpreacl ! The Man of Rofs divides the weekly bread. >ufe, ncnt, but void of ft;Uc, -\ge and Want fit fmiling at the gate, R * 186 Introduction, &c> Parti. Hirn portioned maids, apprenticed orphans bleft 5 The young who labour, and the old who reft. Is any fick ? The Man of Rofs relieves, Prefcribes, attends, the med'cine makes, and gives. Is there a variance ? Enter but his door, Balk'd are the courts, and conteft is no more. Thrice happy man ! enabled to purfue What numbers wifh, but want the power to do. POPE. SECTION VII. Refignation. WHILE fome in folly's pleafures roll, And feek the joys that hurt the foul j Be mine, that filent calm repaft, A peaceful conference to the laft: That tree which bears immortal fruit, Without a canker at the root ; That friend, which never fails the juft, When other friends muft quit their truft. Come then, my foul, be this thy gueft. And leave to folly's fons the reft : With this thou ever mayft be gay, And night {hall brighten into day. With this companion in the fhade, My foul no more fhall be difmay'd j But fearlefs meet the midnight gloom, And the^pale monarch of the tomb, Chap. 4. Defer iptive Pieces. 187 Though tempefts drive me from the fliore, And floods defcend and billows roar; Though death appear in ev'ry form \ My little bark fhall brave the ftorm. Amid the various fcene of ills, Each ftroke fome kind defign fulfils ; And (hall I murmur at my GOD, When fov'reign love directs the rod ? Peace, rebel thoughts I'll not complain , My Father's fmiles iufpend my pain : Smiles, that a thoufand joys impart, And pour ti that heals the fmart. Though Heav'n afflict, Til not repine ; Each heart-felt comton ftill is mine ; Comforts that (liall o'er cfeath prevail, And journey with me thro' the vale. Bleft Saviour ! cheer that darkfome way, And lead me to the realms of day ; To milder fkies and brighter plains, Where everlafting funfliine reigns. COTTON, SECTION VIII. Chat-after of Chr'ijl. BEHOLD, where, in a mortal form, Appears each grace divine; The virtues, all in Jefus met, With mildeft radiance fhine. 188 Introduction, Part 2, The nobleft love of human kind Infpir'd his holy breaft ; In deeds of mercy, words of peace, His kindnefs was expreft. To fpread the rays of heavenly light, To give the mourner joy, To preach glad tidings to the poor, Was his divine employ. Lowly in heart, by all his friends, A friend and fervant found ; Me wafli'd their feet, he wip'd their tears> And heal'd each bleeding wound. 'Midft keen reproach, and cruel fcorn, Patient and meek he ftood : His foes, ungrateful, fought his life \. He laboured for their good. In the laft hour of deep diilrefs, Before his Father's throne, "With foul refign'd, he bow'd and faid, ' Thy will, 'not mine, be done !'. Be Chrift my pattern, and my guide !. His image may I bear! O may I tread his facred fteps , And his bright glories fhare ! E N F I E L DV CHAPTER V. PROMISCUOUS PIECES. SECTION I. Gratitude to the Supreme Being. irlow cheerful along the gay mead, The daify and cowflip appear ! The flocks, as they carelefsly feed, Rejoice in the The myrtius that ha<.:. The herbage that fprings from the fod, Trees, plants, cooling fruits, and fweet flow'rs, Ail rife to the praife of my GOD. Shall t man, the great matter of all, The only infenfible prove ? Forbid it, fair Gratitude's call ! Forbid it, devotion and love ! The LORD, who fuch wonders could raife, And ftiil can deftroy with a nod, My lips fhall inceflantly praife * My heart fliall rejoice in my GOD. 3 9 Introduction) &V, P ar i 2 SECTION II. Acknowledgment of Divine favours. WHENE'ER 1 take my walks abroad, How many poor I fee ! What fhali I render to my God, For all his gifts to me ! Not more than others I deferve, Yet God has giv'n me more ; For I have food, while others ftarve, Or* hear fror" r\r\nr to rlnor. ftreet, nan naKcu, i ocaum -. While I am cloth'd from head to feet, And cover'd from the cold ! While fome poor creatures fcarce can tell* Where they may lay their head, I have a home wherein to dwell, And reft upon my bed. While others early learn to fwear, And curfe, and lie, and fteal, Lord ! I am taught thy name to fear> And do thy holy will. Are thefe thy favours, day by day, To me above the reft ? Then let me love thee more than they, And try to ferve thee beft. Prcmifitiotis Pieces. i SECTION III. 27v excellence of the Eibl GREAT God! with wonder and nth praife On all thy works I look ; But ftill thy wifdom, pow'r, and eacc, Shine brighteft in thy book. The ftars, which in their courfes oil, Have much inftruction given ; But thy good word informs my foil How 1 may get to heav'n. The fields provide me food, and how The goodnefs of the Lord ; But fruits of life and glory grow In thy moft holy word. Here are my choiceft trcafur Her Lord I make me under ftand thy law , Show what my faults have been , And from thy gofpel let me draw Pardon for all my fin. here I learn how JVfiis died. To fave my foul from hell : all the books on earth bc;^ wonders tell. Introduction) &c. Then let n love my Bible more, And tati a frefh delight, By day to i id thefe wonders o'er, And me tate by night. SECTION IV. On Induflry. How does ue little bufy bee Improve :ach fhining hour ; And gathei honey all the day, From ev op'ning flow'r ! Part 2* How fkilful How nea And labour; With the (lie builds her cell ! y fpreads the wax ! hard to ftore it well, weet food Hie makes. WATTS. ,, .:; ld /or idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play. Let my rft years be paft j That I may give for ev'ry day Some good account at laft. WATTS. 5. Promifeuous Pieces. 193 SECTION V. On early riftng. How foolifli they who lengthen night, And ilumber in the morning light ! How fweet at early morning's rife, To view the glories of the ikies, And mark with curious eye the fun Prepare his radiant courfe to run! Its faireft form then nature wears, And clad in brighteft green appears. The fprightly lark, with artleis lay, Proclaims the entrance of the day. How fweet to breathe the gale's perfume, ^ And feaft the eye with nature's bloom ! Along the dewy lawn to rove, And hear the mufic of the grove Nor you, ye delicate and fair, Negleft to tafte the morning air ; "'ill xrmir nprvPs with vipour brnre. ^^.^ KiuCi uiuoin : With luftre teach your eyes to glow ; And health and cheerfulnefs beftow. ARMSTRONG, 794 Introduction , &c. Part 2. SECTION VI. The drowning Jly. IN yonder glafs behold a drowning fly ! Its little feet how vainly does it ply ! Poor helplefs infect ! and will no one fave ? Will no one fnatch thee from the threat'ning grave ? My finger's top ihall prove a friendly fhore. There, trembler, all thy dangers now are o'er. Wipe thy wet wings, and banifh all thy fear : Go, join thy numerous kindred in the air. Away it flies ; refumes its harmlefs play ; And lightly gambols in the golden ray. Smile not, fpe&ators, at this humble deed ; For you, perhaps, a nobler talk's decreed : A young and finking family to fave ; ri ^o raife the thoughtlefs from deftruftion's wave ! you, for help, the wretched lift their eyes : ! hear, for pity's fake, their plaintive cries ; ] ^ng, unlefs fome guardian interpofe, ' r 3 is may c To a Redbreaft. bird, with bofom red, Welcome to my humble fhed ! Daily near my table fteal, While I pick my fcanty meal. Doubt not, little though there be, But I'll caft a crumb to thee : Promifcuous Pisces. J0$ Well rewarded, if I fpy Pleafure in thy glancing eye ; See thee, when thou'ft eat thy fill, Plume thy breaft, and wipe thy bill. Come, my feather'd friend, again ! Well thou know'ft the broken pane. Alk of me thy daily ftore ; Ever welcome to my door ! LANGHORNE, SECTION VIII. fo a child Jive years old. FAIREST flower, all flowers excelling, Which in Milton's page we fee : Flowers of Eve's imbower'd dwelling, Are, my fair one, types of thee. Mark, my Polly, how the rofes Emulate thy damafk cheek ; How the bud its fweets difclofes Buds thy op'ning bloom befpeak. Lilies are by plain direction Emblems of a double kind ; Emblems of thy fair complexion, Emblems of thy fairer mind. But, dear girl, both flow'rs and beauty Bloflbm, fade, and die away : Then purfue good fenfe and duty, Evergreens, which ne'er decay ! COTTO N. 196 Introduction, &c.- Part 2. s j; c T I o N ix. The Rofe. How fair is the rofe ! what a beautiful flotv'r ! In fummer fo fragrant and gay ! But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, And they wither and die in a day. Yet the rofe has one powerful virtue to boaft, Above all the ilow'rs of the field : When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours loflr, Still how fweet a perfume it will yield ! So frail is the youth and the beauty of men, Tho' they bloom and look gay like the rofe. Far all our fond care to preferve them is vain j Time kills them as faft as he goes. Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty, Since both of them wither and fade ; But gain a good name by performing my duty : This will fcent like a rofe, when Pm dead. WATTS, SECTION X. The Ant. THESE emmets, how little they are in our eyes ! We tread them to duft, and a troop of them dies. Without our regard or concern : Chap. 5. Promifiuous Pieces. 197 Yet as wife as we are, if we went to their fchool, There's many a fluggard, and many a fool, Some leflbns of wifdom might learn. They don't wear their time out in fleeping or play, But gather up corn in a fun-fhiny day, And for winter they lay up their (lores They manage their work in fuch regular forms, One would think they forefaw all the frofts and the ftorms ; And fo brought their food within doors. But I have lefs fenfe than a poor creeping ant, If I take not due care for the things I fliall want, Nor provide againll dangers in time. When death or old age (hall ftare in my face, What a wretch (hall I be in the end of my days, If I trifle away all their prime! Now, now, while my ftrength and my youth are in bloom, Let me think- what will ferve me when flcknefs (hall come, And pray that my fins be forgiv'n : Let me read in good books, and believe and obey ; That, when death turns me out of this cottage of clay, I may dwell in a palace in Heav'o, WATTS. SECTION XI. " A morning hymn* God who makes the fun to know His proper hour to rife, S Introdaftmiy &c. Part And to give light to all below, Does fend him round the Ikies. When from the chambers of the eaft His morning race begins, He never tires, nor flops to reft ; But round the world he fhines. So, like the fun, would I fulfil The bus'nefs of the day : Begin my work betimes, and ftill March on my heav'nly way. Give me, O Lord, thy early grace ; Nor let my foul complain, That the young morning of my days Has all been fpent in vain. WATI SECTION XII. An evening hymn* AND now another day is gone, ^ I'll fing my Maker's praife : My comforts ev'ry hour make known His providence and grace. But how my childhood runs to wafte My fins, how great their fum ! Lord ! give me pardon for the paft, And ftrength for days to come. I lay my body down to fleep j Let angels guard my Chap. 5. PromifcuQus Pieces. 199 And through the hours of darknefs keep Their watch around my bed. With cheerful heart I clofe my eyes, Since God will not remove ; And in the morning let me rife, Rejoicing in his love. WATTS. SECTION XIII. The 'winter s day. WHEN raging ftorms deform the air, And clouds of fnow defcend ; And theovide landfcape, bright and fair. No tfeepen'd colours blend ; When biting froft rides on the wind, Bleak from the north and eaft, And wealth is at its eafe reclin'd, Prepar'd to laugh and feaft j When the .poor traveller treads the plain, All dubious of his way, And crawls with night-increafing pain, And dreads the parting day j When poverty in vile attire, Shrinks from the biting blaft, Or hovers o'er the pigmy fire, And fears it will not laft ; When the fond mother hugs her child ! defer to her breaft j Introduction, &c. Part 2. And the poor infant, froft-beguil'd, Scarce feels that it is preft-, Then let your bounteous hand extend Its bleilings to the poor ; Nor fpurn the wretched, while they bend, All fuppliant, at your door. SECTION XIV. Compajfion and forgiventfs. I HEAR the voice of wo; ^ A brother mortal mourns : >^K My eyes with tears, for tears o'erfiow ; My heart his fighs returns. I hear the thirfty cry ; The famifh'd beg for bread : C let my fpring its ftreams fupply % My hand its bounty fhed. And fhall not Wrath relent, Touch'd by that humble ftrain, My brother crying, " I repent, Nor will offend again ?" How elfe, on fprightly wing, Can hope bear high my pray'r, Up to thy throne, my God, my King, To plead for pardon there ? SCOTT. Chap. 5. Premifcuous Pieces. 201 SECTION XV. The ignorance of man. BEHOLD yon new-born infant griev'd With hunger, thirft, and pain ; That afks to have the wants reliev'd It knows not to complain. Aloud the fpeechlefs fuppliant cries, And utters, as it can, The woes that in its bofom rife, And fpeak its nature man. That infant,* whofe advancing hour Life's various forrows try, (Sad proof of fin's tranfmiflive pow'r !) That infant, Lord, am I. A childhood yet my thoughts confefs, Though long in years mature; Unknowing whence I feel diftrefs, And where, or what, its cure. Author of good! to thee I turn: Thy ever-wakeful eye Alone can all my wants difcern ; Thy hand alone fupply. O let thy fear within me dwell ; Thy love my footfteps guide : That love fhall vainer loves expel ; That fear all fears befide. 202 Introduction) &c. Part 2. And oh! by error's force fubdued, Since oft my ftubborn will; Prepoft'rous fhuns the latent good, And grafps the fpecious ill ; Not to my wifh, but to my want, Do thou thy gifts apply : Unafk'd, what good thou knoweft grant ; What ill, tho' afk'd, deny. MERRICK, SECTION XVI. The happy choice. BESET with fnares on ev'ry hand, In life's uncertain path I ftand : Father Divine ! diffufe thy light, To guide my doubtful footfteps right. Engage this frail, and wav'ring heart, Wifely to choofe the better part ; To fcorn the trifles of a day, For joys that never fade away. Then let the wildeft ftorms arife ; Let tempefts mingle earth and fkies : No fatal fhip wreck {hall I fear; But all my treafures with me bear. If thou, my Father ! ftill art nigh, Cheerful I live, and peaceful die : Secure, when mortal comforts flee, To find ten thoufand worlds in thee. DODDR1DGE. Chap. 5. Promifcuous Pieces. 203 SECTION XVII. The fall of the leaf. SEE the leaves around us falling, Dry and withered to the ground ; Thus to thoughtlefs mortals calling, In a fad and folemn found : " Sons of Adam, (once inEden, When, like us, he blighted fell,) Hear the lecture we are reading ; Tis, alas ! the truth we tell. Virgins, much, too much prefuming On your boafted white and red; View us late in beauty blooming, Numbered now ampng the dead. Youths, though yet no lofTes grieve yon, Gay in health, and many a grace ; Let not cloudlefs fkies deceive you ; Summer gives to autumn place. Yearly in our courfe returning, MefTengers of (horteft ftay ; Thus we preach this truth concerning Heav'n and earth fhall pafs away. On the tree of life eternal, Man, let all thy hopes be flaid ; Which alone, for ever vernal, Bears a leaf that fhall not fade/* DR. HORNE. 2O4 Introduction , &c. Part 2 SECTION XVIII. Tnift in the goodnefs of God. WHY, O my foul, why thus depreft, And whence this anxious fear ? Let former favours fix thy truft, And check the rifing tear. When darknefs and when forrows rofe, And prefs'd on every fide, Did not the Lord fuftain thy fteps, And was not God thy guide ? Affliction is a ftormy deep, Where wave refounds to wave : Tho* o'er my head the billows roll, I know the Lord can fave. Perhaps before the morning dawns, He'll reinftate my peace 5 For he who bade the tempeft roar, Can bid the tempeft ceafe. In the dark watches of the night, Pll count his mercies o'er : I'll praife him for ten thoufand paft, And humbly fue for more. Then, O my foul, why thus depreft. And whence this anxious fear ? Let former favours fix thy truft, And check the rifing tear. Chap. 5. PromifcuQus Piece's. 205 Here will I reft, and build my hopes, Nor murmur at his rod ; He's more than all the world to me, My health, my life, my God. COT'TON. SECTION xix. The Chrijlian race. AWAKE, my foul, ftretch ev'ry nerve, And prefs with vigour on: A heav'nly race demands thy zeal, And an immortal crown. A cloud of witnefTes around, Hold thee in full furvey : Forget the fteps already trod, And onward urge thy way. ^Tis GOD'S all-animating voice, That calls thee from on high ; 'Tis his own hand prefents the prize To thine afpiring eye : That prize with peerlefs glories bright, Which ihall new luftre boaft, When victors' wreaths, and monarchs' gems, Shall blend in common duft. My foul, with fncred ardour fir'd, The glorious prize purfue ; And meet with joy the high command, To bid this earth ad; DODDRIDGE. 206 Introduction) &c. Part 2 SECTION XX. :The dying Chriftian to his fouL VITAL fpark of heav'nly flame! Qujt, oh quit this mortal frame : Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, Oh the pain, the blifs of dying ! Ceafe, fond nature, ceafe thy ftrife, And let me languifh into life. Hark ! they whifper j angels fay, " Sifter fpirit, come away." What is this abforbs me quite ; Steals my fenfes, fhuts my fight, Drowns my fpirits, draws my breath r Tell me, my foul, can this be death ? The world recedes ; it difappears ! Heav'n opens on my eyes ! mj^ears With founds feraphic ring : Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! O Grave ! where is thy vidlory ? O Death! where is thy fling? POPE SECTION XXI. Epitaph on a poor and virtuous man. STOP, reader, here, and deign to look * On one without a name; Ne'er enter d in the ample book Of fortune, or of fame. Chap. 5. Promifcuous Pieces. 20* Studious of peace, he hated ftrife j Meek virtues fill'd his bread : His coat of arms, " a fpotlefs life \" "An honeft heart," his creft. Quartered therewith was innocence ; And thus his motto ran : " A confcience void of all offence Before both God and man." In the great day of wrath, tho' pride Now fcorns his pedigree, Thoufands (hall wifh they'd been allied To this great family. SECTION XXII. Love to enemies. WHEM Chrift, among the fonS of mcu, In humble form was found, With cruel flanders, falfe and vain, He was encompafs'd round. The woes of men, his pity mov'd ; Their peace, he ftill purfu'd ; v rendered hatred for his love, And ev:i for his. good. Their malice rag'd without a caufe, Yet, with his dying breath, He pray'd for murdVers on his crofs, And blefs'd his foes in death. 8 Introduftiofiy JsV. Part 2. From the rich fountain of his love, What flreams of mercy flow ! 61 Father, forgive them/' Jefus cries, tc They know not what they do." Let not this bright example fhine In vain before our eyes! Pive us, great God, a foui like his, To love our enemies-. WAT x^* SECTION XXIII. fflje dangers and fnares of life. AWAKE, my foul ! lift up thine eyes; See where thy foes againft thee rife, In long array, a num'rous hofl ! Awake, my foul, or thou art loft. Here giant danger threatening ftands, Muft'ring his pale terrific bands; There pleafure's filken banners fpread, And willing fouls are captive led. See where rebellious paffions rage, And fierce defires and lufts engage ; The meaneft foe of all the train Has thoufands and ten thoufands flain Thou tread'ft upon enchanted ground; Perils and fnares befet thee round : Beware of all, guard ev'ry part, But mod the traitor in thy heart. Chap. 5. Promifcuous Pieces. 209 Come then, my foul, now learn to wield The weight of thine immortal fhield : Put on thy armour from above Of heav'nly truth and heav'nly love. The terror and the charm repel, And povv'rs of earth, and pow'rs of hell : The Man of Calvary triumphed here-, Why Qiould his faithful followers fear ? B ARE AULD. SECTION XXIV. The Divine Being knows and fees every thing. LORD, thou haft fearch'd and feen me thro' : Thine eye beholds, with piercing view. My rifing and my refting hours, My heart and flefti with all their pow'rs. My thoughts, before they are my own. Are to my God diftinftly known ; He knows the words I mean to fpeak, Ere from my opening lips they break. Within thy circling pow'r I ftand \ On ev'ry fide I find thy hand : Awake, afleep, at home, abroad, I am furrounded ftili with God. Amazing knowledge, vaft and great! What large extent! what lofty height ! My foul, with all the pow'rs I boaft, Is in the boundlefs profpect loft. T 2 2io Introduftioni&c. Parti* may thefe thoughts poffefs my breaft, Where'er I rove, where'er I reft ! Nor let my weaker pafiions dare Confent to fin, for God is there. Could I fo falfe, fo faithlefs prove, To quit thy fervice and thy love, Where, Lord, could I thy prefence fhuri, Or from thy dreadful glory run ? If up to heav'ri I take my flight, 'Tis there thou dwell'ft inthron'd in light ; Or dive to hell, there vengeance reignsj And Satan groans beneath thy chains. If, mounted on a morning ray, 1 fly beyond the weftern fea ; Thy fwifter hand would firft arrive, And there arreft thy fugitive. Or fhould I try to fhun thy fight Beneath the fpreading veil of night ; One glance of thine, one piercing ray, Would kindle darknefs into day. Oh ! may thefe thoughts pofTefs my breaft, Where'er I rove, where'er I reft \ Nor let my weaker paflions dare Confent to fin , for God is there, -WATTS. Chap. ; Promifiuous Pieces? 21 1 SECTION XXV. All nature attejls the great Creator. A I AST thou beheld the glorious fun, Through all the ky his circuit run, At rifing morn, at clofing day, And when he beam'd his noontide ray i Say, didft thou e'er attentive view The ev'ning cloud, or morning dew? Or, after rain, the wat'ry bow Rife in the eaft, a beauteous fliow ; When darknefs had o'erfpread the fkies, Hail thou e'er feen the moon arife; And with a mild and placid light, Shed luftre o'er the face of night? Haft thou e'er wander'd o'er the plain, And view'd the fields, and waving grain 5 The flow'ry mead, the leafy grove, Where all is melody and love ? Haft thou e'er trod the fandy fhore, And heard the reftlefs ocean roar, When, rous'd by fome tremendous ftorra. Its billows roll in dreadful form? thou beheld the lightening ftream, Thro* night's dark gloom with fudden gleam 5 While the bellowing thunder's found Roll'd rattling thro* the heav'ns profound .* 21 2 ItitroduElion^ &c. Part 2. Haft thou e'er felt the cutting gale, The fleety fhow'r, the biting hail; Beheld bright fnow o'erfpread the plains , The water, bound in icy chains ? Haft thou the various beings feen, That fport along the valley green ; That fweetly warble on the fpray, Or wanton in the funny ray ; That fhoot along the briny deep, Or under ground their dwellings keep j That thro* the gloomy foreft range, Or frightful wilds and deferts ftrange? Haft thou the wond'rous fcenes furvey'd That all around thee are difplay'd? And haft thou never rais'd thine eyes To HIM who caus'd thefe fcenes to rife ? 'Twas GOD who form'd the concave iky, And all the fhining orbs on high : Who gave the various beings birth, That people all the fpacious earth. 'Tis HE that bids the tempefts rife, And rolls the thunder through the ikies. His voice the elements obey: Thro' all the earth extends his fway. His goodnefs all his creatures {hare : But man as his peculiar care. Then, while they ail proclaim his praife, Ltt man his voice the loudeft raife. Chap. 5. Promifcuous Pieces* 213 SECTION XXVI. Praife due to God for his wonderful works. MY God ! all nature owns thy fway; Thou giv'ft the night, and thou the day ! When all thy lov'd creation wakes, When morning, rich in luftre, breaks, And bathes in dew the op'ning flow'r, To thee we owe her fragrant hour \ And when fhe pours her choral fong, Her melodies to thee belong ! Or when, in paler tints array'd, The evening flowly fpreads her fhade 5 That foothing fhade, that grateful gloom, Can, more than day's enlivening bloom, Still ev'ry fond and vain defire, And calmer, purer thoughts infpire ; From earth the penfive fpirit free, And lead the foften'd heart to thee. In ev'ry fcene thy hands have drefs'd, In ev'ry form by thee imprefs'd, Upon the mountain's awful head, Or where the fhelt'ring woods are fpread; In ev'ry note that fvrells the gale, Or tuneful ftream that cheers the vale, The cavern's depth, or echoing grove, A voice is heard of praife, and love. As o'er thy work the feafons roll, And foothe, with change of blifs, the foyl, O never may their fmiiing train <>'er the human fcene in vain ( 214 IntroduElioriy &5V. Part 2. But oft, as on the charm we gaze, Attune the wondering foul to praife; And be the joys that moft we prize The joys that from thy favour rife ! WILLIAMS. SECTION XXVII. The happy end. WHEN life's tempeftuous ftorms are o'er, How calm he meets the friendly fhore, Who liv'd averfe to fin ! Such peace on virtue's path attends, That, where the fanner's pleafure ends, The good man's joys begin, See failing patience fmooth his brow \ See the kind angels waiting now, To lift his foul on high ! While eager for the bleft abode, He joins with them to praife the God, Who taught him how to die. The horrors of the grave and hell, Thofe forrows which the wicked feel, In vain their gloom difplay ; For he who bids yon comet burn, Or makes the night defcend, can turn Their darknefs into day. No forrows drown his lifted eyes ; No horror wrefts the ftruggling fighs -, As from the Turner's breaft : Chap. 5. Promifcuous Pieces. His God, the God of peace and love, Pours fweeteft comforts from above, And foothes his heart to reft! SECTION XXVIII. A kind and gentle temper of great importance to tte happinefs of life. SINCE trifles make the fum of human things, And "half our mis'ry from our foibles fprings ; Since life's bed joys confift in peace and eafe, And few can fave, or ferve, but all can pleafe ; Oh ! let th' ungentle fpirit learn from hence, A fmall unkindnefs is a great offence. Large bounties to beftow, we wilh in vain : But all may fhun the guilt of giving pain. To blefs mankind with tides of flowing wealth, With pow'r to grace them, or to crown with health, Our little lot denies ; but Heav'n decrees To all the gift of minift'ring to eafe. The gentle offices of patient love, Beyond all flatt'ry, and all price above ; The mild forbearance of another's fault ; The taunting word fupprefs'd as foon as thought : On thefe Heav'n bade the fweets of life depend ; And crufh'd ill fortune when it made a friend. A folitary blefllng few can find; Our joys with thofe we love are intertwined : And he whofe wakeful tcndernefs removes Th' obftructing thorn which wounds the friend he loves, Smooths not another's rugged path alone, 'eatters rofes to adorn his own. 2T6 Introduction, &c. Part 2 Small flights, contempt, neglect, unmix'd witl hate, Make up in number what they want in weight : Tliefe, and a thoufand griefs, minute as thefe, Corrode our comforts, and deflroy our peace. MORE SECTION XXIX. Simplicity. HAIL, artlefs Simplicity, beautiful maid, In the genuine attractions of nature array'd : Let the rich and the proud, and the gay and the vain. Still laugh at the graces that move in thy train. No charm in thy modeft allurements they find ; The pleafures they follow a fting leave behind. Can criminal paflion enrapture the breaft, Like virtue, with peace and ferenity bleft ? O would you Simplicity's precepts attend, Like us, with delight at her altar you'd bend ; The pleafures (he yields would with joy be embraced; You'd practice from virtue, and love them fromtafte. The linnet enchants us the bufiies among : Tho' cheap the mufician, yet fweet is the fong ; We catch the foft warbling in air as it floats, And with ecftacy hang on the ravifhing notes. Our water is drawn from the cleared of fprings, And our food, nor difeafe nor fatiety brings : Our mornings are cheerful, our labours are b Chap. 5. Promifcuous Pieces. 217 Our ev'nings arc pleafant, our nights crewn'd with reft. From our culture yon garden its ornament find*-; And we catch at the hint of improving our minds: To live to fome purpofe we conftantly try ; And we mark by our acYions the days as they fly. Since fuch are the joys that Simplicity yields, We may well be content with our woods and our fields.. How ufelefs to us then, ye great, were your wealth, When without it we purchafe both plea fu re and health ! MORE. c T i o N xxx. Care and Genersfity. OLD Care, with induftry and art, At length fo well had play'd his part, He heap'd up fuch an ample (lore, JThat avYice could not figh for more. Ten thoufand flocks his fhepherd told, His coffers overflow'd with gold ; The land all round him was his own, With corn his crowded gran'ries groan. In fhort, fo vaft his charge and gain, That to poffrfs them was a pain : With happinefs opprefs'd he lies, And much too prudent to be wife. Near him there liv'd a beauteous maid, With all the charms of youth array'd ; Good, amiable, fincere, and free ; Her name was Generofity. U 2i8 Introduction > &c. Part 2 9 Twas her's the largefs to beftow On rich and poor, on friend and foe. Tier doors to all were open'd wide ; The pilgrim there might fafe abide. For th' hungry and the thirfty crew, The bread ihe broke, the drink fh'e drew. There ficknefs laid her aching head, And there diftrefs could find a bed. Each hour, with an all-bounteous hand. Diffused the bleffings round the land. Her gifts and glory lafted long, And numerous was th' accepting throng. At lenth pale penury feiz'd the dame, And fortune fled, and ruin came; She found her riches at an end, And that flie had not made one friend. All blam'd her for not giving more, Nor thought on what she'd done before. She wept, ihe rav'd, fhe tore her hair : When lo ! to comfort her, came Care ; And cried, " My dear, if you will join Your hand in nuptial bonds with mine, All will be well you fhall have ftore, And I be plagu'd with wealth no more. Tho* I reftrain your bounteous heart, You ftill (hall act the gen'rous part. The bridal came, great was the feaft. And good the pudding and the pried. The bride in nine moons brought him forth A little maid of matchlefs worth : Her face was mix'd with care and glee ; And fhe was nam'd Economy. They ftyl'd her fair Difcretion's queen, Promifcuous Pieces . 219 The midrefs of the golden mean. Now Generolky confin'd, Perfectly eafy in her mind, Still loves to give, yet knows to fpare, Nor wi flies to be free from Care. SMART. c T i o x x xxi. The BL. WIDE over the tremulous fea, The moon fpread her mantle of light ; And the gale, gently dying away, Breath' J foft on the bofom of night. On the forecaftle Maratan ftood, And pour'd forth his forrowful tale ; His tears fell unfeen in the flood ; His fighs paff'd unheard in the gale. " Ah, wretch !" in wild anguifli, he cried, " From country and liberty torn ! Ah, Maratan, would thou hadft died, Ere o'er the fait waves thou wcrt borne I Thro' the groves of Angola I ftray'd, Love and hope made my bofom their home -, There I tallc'd with my favourite maid. Nor dreamt of the forrow to come. From the thicket the manhunter fprung, My cries echoed loud thro' the air : There was fury and wrath on his tongue j was deaf to the voice of defpair, 420 Introduftien) Gta, Part 2. Flow ye tears, down my cheeks ever flow -, Still let fleep from my eyelids depart ; And ftill may the ibrrovvs of wo Drink deep of the ftream of my heart. ut hark ! o'er the filence of night My Adila's accents I hear ; mournful, beneath the wan light, 1 ice her lov'd image appear. S!ow o'er the fmooth ocean (he glides, As the mift that hangs light on the wave $ And fondly her partner Ihe chides, Who lingers fo long from his grave. 4 Oh, Maratan ! hafte thee/ (he cries, 4 Here the reign of oppreflion is o'er , The tyrant is robb'd of his prize, And Adila forrows no more.' Xow linking amidft the dim ray, Her form feems to fade on my^view: O ! flay thee, my Adila ftay ! She beckons, and I muft purfue. To-morrow the white man, in vain, Shall proudly account me his flave : My (hackles I plunge in the main, And rufh to the realms of the brave !"* * it may not be improper to remind the young reader, that the anguifh of the unhappy negroes, on being feparated for ever irom their country and dearest connexions, with the dreadful profpect of perpetual flavery, frequently becomes fo exauifue, as to produce derangement of mind, and filicide* Chap. 5. Protriifcitous Pieces* SECTION XXXII. The Swallows. ERE yellow autumn from our plains retir'd, And gave to wint'ry dorms the varied year, The fwallow race, with forefight clear infpir'd, To fouthern climes prepar'd their courfe to fleer. On Damon's roof a grave afTembly f<;t ; His roof, a refuge to the feather'd kind : With ferious look he mark'd the nice debate. And to his Delia thus addrefs'd his mind. " Obferve yon twittering flock, my gentle maid ; Obferve, and read the wond'rous ways of Heav'n ; With us, thro' fu miner's genial reign they ftay'd, And food and lodging to their wants were giv'n. But now, thro' facred prefcience, well they know The near approach of elemental ftrife ; The bluft'ring tempcft, and the chilly fnow, Witli. ev'ry want and fcourge of tender life. Thus taught, they meditate a fpeedy flight ; For this, e'en now they prune their vigV wing ; For this, confult, advife, prepare, excite ; And prove their ftrength in many an airy ring. They feel a pow'r, an impulfe all divine ! That warns them hence ; they feel it and obey : To this direction all their cares reiign, U 2 Introduction , &?. Pa\t .v, Unknown their deftinM ftage, unmark'd their way. And does no pow'r its friendly aid difpenfe, Nor give us tidings of fome happier clime ? Find we no guide in gracious Providence, Beyond the flroke of death, the verge of time : Yes, yes, the facred oracles we hear, That point the path to realms of endlefs day 9 That bid our hearts nor death, nor anguifh fear : This, future tranfport; that, to life the way. Then let us timely for our flight prepare, And form the foul for her divine abode; Obey the call, and truft the leader's care, To bring us fafe, through virtue's paths to God. Let no fond love for earth exact a figh ; No doubts divert our fteady fteps afide > Nor let us long to live, nor dread to die : Heav'n is our hope, and Providence our guide.'' 7 JAG'O. THE END. RECOMMENDATIONS OF THIS WORK. " Our pages bear ample testimony, both to the ability 1799. ( 224 } Recommendation of the Sequel to the English Rtu( " We notice this useful volume of Mr. Murray, for the sake of the additions and improvements which it has received in this edition. The selections are enlarged by nine different articles ; of which it is enough to say, that they display Mr. Murray's taste, judgment, and ac- quaintance with English literature ; and that enlightened regard to religion and morality, which so eminently qualifies him to guide the studies of youth. What, however, chiefly deserves our remark, is an Appendix annexed to this edition, containing Biographical Sketches of the authors mentioned in the " Introduction to the English Reader," the " English Reader" itself, and the " Sequel to the Reader ;" with occasional stric- tures on their writings, and references to the particular works by which they have been most distinguished. These Sketches are uncommonly well done. They form a sort of introduction to Literary History, and Criticism, which must prove both interesting and in- structive to the juvenile mind." Literary Journal^ February r , 1805. e < We have already borne our testimony to the high merit of Mr. Murray, as an acute grammarian, and as blending in his various works, with uncommon happi- ness, a delicate and correct taste, both in literature and morals. We are pleased, though not surprised, to see that the public has demanded a new edition of the re- spectable work now before us." Ann ua I Review ', 1804. " We regard, as a very valuable improvement, the biographical and critical Jffifiendix^ introduced into this edition of the u Sequel to the English Reader.'' It con- tains short, but instructive accounts, of all the authors from whose works both these selections have been formed, those exc.oted who are yet living. This com- pilation (the Sequel) appears more free from objectiona- ble passages, and better adapted to the improvement of youth, than any other of the kind which we have seen." Eclectic Rrvicw* June, 1805, ( 225 ). Recommendation of the Grammar ', Exercises and Keij* " Mr. Murray has presented to the public a new edi- i of his grammar, in which he shows a laudable iinxiety to render his book more and more worthy of the high reputation by which it is honourably distinguished." " Mr. Murray's Grammar, Exercises, and Key to the Exercises, form altogether, by far, the most complete and judicious analysis of the English language, that has hitherto been published. The rules for composition are excellent ; the examples are selected with taste and judgment ; and the execution of the whole displays aa unusual degree of critical acuteness and sagacity.*' Annual Review y 1802. Mr. Murray's English Grammar, English Exercises, and Abridgment of the Grammar, claim our attention, on account of their being composed on the principle we so frequently recommended, of combining religious and moral improvement with the elements of scientific knowledge. But as it is not a part of our plan, to enter into a particular examination of works of this nature, we shall only say, that they have long been in high esti- mation. The late learned Dr. Hlair gave his opinion of them in the following terms: 4 Mr. Lindley Murray's Gram- ' mar, with the Exercises and the Key in a separate volume, I esteem as a most excellent performance. \ think it superior to any work of that nature we have yet 1 had; and am persuaded that it is, by much, the best Grammar of the English language extant. On . ntax, in particular, he has shown a wonderful degree s and precision, in ascertaining the pro- 4 priety of language, and in rectifying the numberless 4 errors which writers are apt to commit. Most useful 4 these books must certainly be to all who are applying themselves to the arts of composition.' Guardian of Education^ July^ 1803. " This Grammar is a publication of much merit, and fully answers the professions in the title. The ^fjfiendix contains some of the best rules for writing elegantly, and with propriety, that we ic'collect to have seen." " We have been much pleased with the perusal of Mr. Murray's English Exercises." They occupy, with distinguished excellence, a most important place in the science of the English language ; and, as such, we can warmly recommend them to the teachers of schools, as well as to all those who arc desirous of attaining correct- ness and precision in their native tongue.'' Monthly Revtetv, 1796, 1797. " This book (English Exercises) has been accidentally mislaid : but we willingly repeat the praise we formerly gave the author for his English Grammar. There is great judgment shown in these Exercises ; and, what is no common merit, the greatest perspicuity in the adap- tation of the examples to the several rules." British Critic^ Jvove?nber, 1798. " These Exercises are in general well calculated to promote the purpose of information, not only with regard to orthography and punctuation, but also in point of phraseology, syntax, and precise perspicuity of com- position." Critical Review, October, 1797.